Different Stars
by raynperdition
Summary: Avenger AU. After a decade, Loki is back in New York City. Tony is still a destructive mess. What will happen when they see each other again? After all they've been through, can they find love in the same old places? Or have they changed too much? WARNING: Very, very triggering. Proceed with caution. Part II of the Supernova Series.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: **The song for this is Different Stars by Tresspassors William.**

**This is the real, true, last attempt at the second installment of The Supernova Series. By, none other than your's truly.**

**Anyways, I hope you enjoy my lovelies. There's not really any warnings that I can remember except tension and bad words. -gasp- Oh, and it's kind of long. If that's a warning. **

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Stan Lee or his beautiful characters. But, I will give anything to anybody to purchase my very own Stan Lee and Stan Lee characters. **

* * *

It's been ten years.

Ten years is a _very_ long time.

A lot can happen in ten years.

* * *

Loki found that out the hard way as he strode through the terminal, his backpack slung over one shoulder and his eyes trailing the windows that lay stacked beside him. Long legs took him out into the pissing rain, where he should have had a big, hulking blond brother awaiting him. His coffee warmed his hand despite the chill that crawled through his coat, under his shirt, pierced his skin, and took up residence in his bone marrow. Frost curled up his windpipe, turning his breath an arctic shade in the chilly air. His hair stuck to his face in near-frozen wisps, conforming to his jaw and the crook of his throat, down to where his long, white neck met strong, angular shoulders.

A silver Audi swung up to the curb, and a tanned man with long blond hair and beaming sapphire eyes jumped out of the driver's seat. Loki stared at him, caught in the change age had wrought on the beautiful smile and twinkling eyes that had never looked at him with anything but love and distraught confusion. A handful of times, there had even been a hint of anger. But he preferred not to think of those times, it was brought to mind enough when he stared at his face in the mirror and saw the damaged scars twisting delicately around his lips.

"Brother!" Ah, the customary greeting.

Loki scowled in response, ducking away from the bear-like hug and throwing his backpack into the backseat of the pretty, shining car. "I need cigarettes, so we're gonna have to stop at a gas station or something." He growled, his voice deepened by the husky desire to get far, far away from the pit-stop called Emotion. And yeah, something by that name was huddling in his throat, desperate to get away from the coldness building in his soul.

Thor stared at him, raindrops glittering on his eyelashes, shielding that damned blue-tinted confusion from the rain. "Okay. Um, hi." Thor shrugged, obviously conflicted about whether he should just pull the wintry man into a hug- whether he liked it or not, and _yes,_ Thor has tried this tactic multiple times (it never worked very well)- or get into the car and pretend like Loki's normal acrimony hasn't put him off- even though everyone and their mother can see he's hurt by it all the same.

Loki sighed, glaring at him like he might rip him to shreds right there in front of the airport. "You are insufferable, you know that?" He quickly wrapped his arms around the bigger man, intending to pull away within seconds. Instead, he got caught in a tight, crushing hug that depleted him of oxygen for a good ten seconds.

"I have missed you, brother." Thor used that same damn moniker he had been hearing for the past thirty years, and really, Loki was so beyond tired of it that he was very close to screaming.

Fun Fact #1: Up until about eleven years ago, Loki had been hesitant, but willing, to allow Thor to call him 'brother' every other sentence. All of that changed when Loki found out he was adopted and the pet name became a painful reminder of everything he wasn't. Because, deep down, Loki really desired nothing more than to be Thor's flesh and blood- even if it meant being related to Odin Odinson.

A strange gaggle of goosebumps flitted across Loki's face when Thor's hot breath hit the side of his neck, right under his ear. "Yeah, yeah. Let me go, please." He bitched, moaning because really his ribcage is too fragile for Thor's absolutely unnecessarily forceful hugs, powerful arms squeezing him like a stress ball. He was set back on his feet gently, and Thor's hands were gripping his shoulders. "Look, Thor," He sighed, glancing at the traffic backing up behind Thor's car- which was in the middle of the road, mind you. "We need to go. Don't worry, I'm back. For good."

And this particular statement becomes a dagger down his throat, because he wants to swallow the words the instant they vomit from his mouth. He wants them to go back to wherever they came from because when the fuck did Loki decide this was a good idea? How the hell did he get into this mess, and why the fucking hell did he allow himself to be talked into this preposterous idea? Moving back to New York City was the prime example of bad decision-making on his part. And since when did Loki ever want to come back here, where there were ghosts and specters and horrors he didn't have the iron spine to handle. There were people here he couldn't handle, terrors he couldn't face, and memories he didn't care to reminisce.

But as they drove down the highway, snaking between taxis and narrowly avoiding a fiery car crash in the middle of the fucking road, Loki finds the memories flashing through his mind like a streaker in Central Park- laughing and screaming and freezing. Because in this moment, with all of this emotional backlog broiling in the forefront of his mind, Loki's temperature has dropped to a subzero degree. And it's a really good thing that Thor stays silent, merely sending him an elated grin now and then, and irritably grumbling to himself about Loki's choice of music. Honestly, if the man had said so much as 'boo', Loki would've ripped his head off and eaten it for breakfast.

It was here, that his life fell apart for what must have been the thousandth time. It was here, where, ten years ago, he felt his heart fissure and tear apart- never to fully heal or repair. It was here, where he lost the one man he had ever truly loved. It was here where tragedy dealt her devastating hand, throwing Loki out of the game and turning him into an emotional pauper. He had bet his all on that gamble, put all his eggs in one basket, allowed himself to fall in love.

My, how stupid we humans are.

* * *

Tony glared sourly at the television screen. The pictures of his past flashed up in slow succession, reminding him of everything he had ever done in the past thirty-one years. The news anchor even felt the need to comment about the picture of him and Loki locked in a passionate kiss upon his arrival home from Afghanistan. But, oh, how that moment had turned everything in the news or on the tabloids into something small and finite and insignificant, whereas the boy in his arm was infinitely beautiful and eternally passionate and something Tony needed like he needed air or blood or a heartbeat.

"Damn." He breathes, watching the last taken pictures of he and his father light up the screen.

There was a twinge of regret in his chest, not for the lack of respect or the estrangement between he and his father, but merely for how he had reacted to it all. Time after time, he had flown out of control, retaliating to his father's abuse with equal or greater malice. Sure, he had never had the audacity to strike his father, or blame the man for his beautiful, young wife's death- but he had certainly done his all to make the man suffer along with him. Maybe it had been called for, to some degree, but in the end, Tony had gone overboard- striking back like a pissy cobra.

They had always been like that, two coiled snakes, hissing and spiting venom at each other. They were predators- Howard by nature, and Tony by nurture- but it didn't excuse their relationship, or lack thereof. It didn't explain why Tony had nearly driven his father's company to ruin, or why Howard had allowed Stane to organize Tony's abduction. And yes, Tony felt _justified_ in hating his father for the arc reactor he had to wear, day-in day-out. It was slowly killing him. Palladium slid through his veins like sludge, poisoning him, digging a grave for him.

He sighed, leaning against the window, letting his forehead fall to rest against the glass. The city was laid out below, glimmering in the deepening darkness and ever-present rain. There was something comforting, knowing that the city was still there, his simmering mistress. The rain fell quietly, barely thrumming against the roof audibly, hardly distracting his ear drums- which strained to catch every word from the news.

Life hadn't been kind to him the past decade, and the limelight had seemed ever harsher. But things were starting to look up for the business, quickly turning him into the City's darling. Coming out as Iron Man had only increased his popularity and the Stark Expo had turned Stark Industries into the pride of New York City. The mayor wanted to shake his hand, when he had previously referred to the spiraling out of control playboy as toxic and a sinful influence on the nation's children. To which, Stark had snorted and retorted that if children were looking for a hero, they needn't look his way. He wasn't out to be a hero.

No, Tony was no hero. And just because he was now Iron Man didn't mean he was suddenly going to become a shining example, or a beacon of hope for morality- like Steve Rogers. Steve had the full weight of that responsibility on his shoulders, and Tony wasn't looking for another cross to bear. He had enough weighing him down. Merely powering the Iron Man suit was killing him.

Was he a martyr?

Or just destroying himself in every possible way?

Tony had been self-destructive since the day his mother died, quickly taking a fiery nosedive into full-on addictions and working himself to an early grave. Maybe it was just the one coping mechanism he had ever seen modeled before him- in Howard- or, maybe it was just his nature, to destroy something blossoming and beautiful. Either way, Tony didn't see himself changing. At least, not before it was too late.

Really, there was but one person in the world who could change his mind, or make him turn his life around. But that person wasn't there, and he never would be.

Loki Laufeyson was long gone.

He wasn't coming back.

* * *

Thor had thrown a coming-home party. How quaint. Honestly, if Loki wasn't a completely sane, civilized person, he would've let out a banshee yell and killed Thor in a gory, but creative, way. Civilized. He was _civilized._ And, in the eyes of every person in this ridiculously extravagant home, Loki knew he looked refined and civil and even charming. But inside, he wanted to scream and cry and go sit in a dark corner somewhere because he didn't know a soul in this house and all there was to numb the discomfort and slight reappearance of social anxiety was alcohol. Surely, getting drunk to numb the world was not something he had learned from an inventor who was just shy of five miles away.

He played with the snowflake necklace around his throat, looking around at his surroundings.

The house in and of itself was purely obnoxious. It was gargantuan, an intense display of all the success and leadership Thor had achieved and all he had attained since he had entered the political world a little over eight years ago- a time during which Loki was struggling through the last two years of his college in a completely different continent. And really, it just reminded Loki of all the fights they had had across the phone, when Loki had been just shy of screaming and Thor's grammar had crashed and burned into something resembling a Neanderthal's linguistics. It made Loki want to go back home to his quiet, small flat in smoggy London, where everything was cold and he had loads of hot tea and books piled to the ceiling. It sounded like heaven, and Loki was frankly wondering why on earth he had ever left.

"Loki!" A slightly-accented female voice calls out through the din of music and chattering and laughter and just plain humanity. He spun, quick to search out the fire-engine red bob and the pretty white face it framed perfectly. Natasha. And, by her side- as always- Clint.

"Nat!" He enveloped her in a tight hug, breathing in her peppermint spice perfume and throwing a grin at Clint. "How have you been, my dear?" He allowed her to tightly clasp his hands, holding him close to her so that there faces were mere inches apart.

It had always been this way with them. She was a Russian warrior, up in your face and loudly in love with everyone she allowed into her heart. Loki had been the first, and Clint had quickly followed. They were tight, keeping each other close and holding them to their heart like they were each other's lifelines. Loki knew everything about Natasha, and she knew everything about Loki- down to his deepest secrets. In her beautiful eyes, he could see worry, but at the same time, an overwhelming love that warmed his cold soul down to the core.

"Great!" She bounced in place, and he felt the ring on her finger pushing against his skin. He narrowed his eyes.

"Natasha, I think you have something to tell me." He cocked his head, a teasing smile spreading across his lips. Although, deep down, Loki was having a hard time just reminding himself that breathing was a _good_ thing. Depression, like a sea was swallowing him whole, just like it had in the years when he had lived here before, when he had been going to college and his boyfriend had been loving and a constant in his life- very different from the occasional quick fuck he had nowadays. Love was a luxury Loki's heart could no longer afford.

She frowned, glaring at him with thinly veiled ecstasy. "You always know." She released one of his hands to punch him in the shoulder. Ignoring his laughter, she yanked him out onto one of Thor's balconies while Clint ran to get some champagne. She still had him under her thumb, the loyal puppy who would do anything to please it's master. "What tipped you off?" She asked, once the music had been stifled by glass doors and the din of the street below took it's place.

He shrugged, holding up her hand and allowing the ring to glisten a reply for him. It was beautiful but simple and elegant. Clint had done well. Loki couldn't have found a better engagement ring for Natasha himself.

"Oh." She stared at it, a smile lighting up her face again. "Isn't it beautiful?" The intense bliss in her voice was starting to turn Loki into a romantic ball of happiness and smiles. If this continues, it'll fuck up his cynicism and pure misanthropic reputation. The people inside might actually attempt to approach the sullen, dark-haired young man who couldn't work up a smile if his life depended on it.

"It really is." He murmured, waiting for her to look back at him. "I'm very happy for you, Natasha." And he was, he had been waiting for this announcement to come for years. Clint and Nat were _made_ for each other. Such a match was only made in heaven.

Clint burst out into their haven, handing Loki and Nat their respective glasses. "Thor asked me where you were." He smirked, sidling up to Loki. They had gotten close over the past decade, their mutual adoration for Ms. Romanoff pulling them together and bonding them into the best of friends quickly. But Clint was still friends with Stark. And that made some subjects unapproachable between them, tearing a chasm between them that wouldn't be bridged until Loki and Stark made up- when hell freezes over- or when Clint and Stark stop talking- maybe when pigs fly.

Loki arched an eyebrow, eyeing the prettily grinning blue-eyed archer. "And did you tell him where I was?" He asked, his tone dry, but his eyes knowing. Clint would sooner cut off his right hand, because Natasha would kill him or throw his pretty ring in his face if he betrayed her Loki.

Clint snorted, rolling his eyes. "Of course not; have a little faith, Loki. I ain't no double agent." He winked at his Russian maven, obviously lit up by the season and the recent engagement, and everything that was suddenly beautiful and glittering and yeah, Clint's world must have been just short of heaven right now.

Loki was almost envious. Almost because there wasn't a soul on earth he was even remotely interested in like that, right now. And envious because he had come close to the zenith of pure tender harmony that his two friends were enjoying before him. Because ten years ago, he and Anthony had been on the cusp of this, of melding their two lives together eternally. But, apparently, he hadn't known the man as well as he thought.

Clint's phone rang, and he pulled it out of his pocket as Loki cast his eyes out over the view sprawled before them. New York City at midnight was unlike any other sight in the world. It was a meandering, cluttered, glimmering metropolis, covering miles of the United States and taking place as an international darling- loved by all but truly known by few. At one time, Loki had been one of the few. And in the last few days he had spent here, before he left once and for all- only to come back now, which was such a horrifically ill conceived idea- he had tracked this City's every square inch, walking and walking and walking. He had visited every little boutique- most of which had long since closed down- every cafe that served coffee. He had run through every park, ingrained the map of the City into his bones. If it didn't morph and writhe and change every single day in the ten years since then, Loki would've been able to find his way to anywhere he wanted to go to this day.

"Tony? What...No, I...I don't know if that's such a good idea, man." Loki stiffened at Clint's words, hearing a husky, slurred voice squawking from the phone's speakers. His heart started burning and his fingers were shaking the champagne in his grasp that Natasha took it from him with a knowing and anxious glance. "I'm with Nat, at...well, I'm at Thor's place, bud." Clint's tone was placating, and Loki rolled his eyes, Tony was already drunk. "Whoa, no. You can't drive right now...I don't care if you're motherfucking Captain god damn America. You can't...Tony!" Loki was frowning, taking in Clint's tense body language, gripping the phone so tightly his fingers were turning white. "Well, I don't know, Tony. Are you god, now?" The pure sarcasm dripping off Clint's lips had Loki's eyebrows arching into his messy hair. Natasha rubbed his back, soothing circles round and round the vertebra that stood out against his pale, starkly white skin. "No, please...Because it's a bad idea...I can't tell you that." Loki got the distinct impression that Stark had absolutely no clue that Loki was back in town.

Loki stood straight, gripping Clint's shoulder comfortingly. "He can come, Clint." A noise erupted from the phone that sounded like Stark screaming. He was guessing he had heard his voice. No doubt his reaction would be vicious fury towards pretty much every poor soul who had been aware of Loki's return. "Tell him I said to get a taxi, or to keep his pint-sized ass away from my brother's home." He snarled, knowing he was close enough to the phone that Stark could clearly hear every word he said.

It wasn't an idle threat. And neither was his heart's precautionary speeds, taking a flying sprint against his ribcage, and remind him of every moment he had spent weeping or beating the living shit out of something because he missed the damned billionaire. He had avoided the news from day one, not wanting to see that perfect face thrown in front of him again and again- because gods know, Anthony can't keep himself out of the limelight for very long. He had scars running all up and down his arms, portraying the misery and pure agony he had gone through after he left America.

And if Loki was being honest with himself- which he makes a point to never really be completely pellucid with himself these days- he knew that he didn't really want Stark here. He didn't want to deal with him. Not really. But there was some part of his heart that wanted to see and touch and hear him again. He wanted those warm arms around him again, the same way they were in his brightest nightmares and darkest day dreams. It was the lovechild of asperity and hope. Reminding him he couldn't have what he wanted so badly, even his subconscious yearned for it.

Asperity told him that love was cruel.

Hope told him it didn't have to be.

Stark proved both right.

* * *

He was about to have a panic attack and Natasha had more on her hands than she could handle. Clint was getting as drunk as a skunk and pressuring Loki into drinking more and more of the toxic depressant, and really it was a fucking ingenious idea for him to get drunk when he's in such a volatile state because absolutely anything could set him off like a trip-wire right now. He knew it, he knew this was bad and that it was fated to end disastrously because everything that happens to Loki can either be a castastrophe or a miraculously blessed event.

It's never the latter, frankly.

"You know, Loki, I'm glad you and Tony are finally facing each other." Clint leans against Loki, slinging an arm around his shoulders. Loki felt his fingers tapping his chest, in beat with the music. "I mean, he wanted so badly to apologize. Ya know? He kept telling me that you _had_ to know, that if you just watched the news, you'd figure it out and come back to him. Butcha never did." He murmured, gazing up at Loki with heady, hazy eyes. "He wanted you to come back."

Loki's muscles recoil, snatching him out of Clint's reach. "What are you talking about? He wanted me to come back? What was I supposed to find out?" His mind is spinning furiously, rage building up in his pores because he had told Thor to let him know if anything happened that might change his mind. God damn it.

Clint squinted at him. _"Hey,_ man, calm down. You're talking too fast, little buddy." He reached out to place a placating hand on Loki's trembling shoulders- his entire body was shaking with the force of the roiling emotions inside him. And really, this was a fuckload of backlog from years of bottling up every little emotion he had felt. After years of mourning Stark's absence in his life, he had decided to shove it all under the rug, pretend like he didn't feel a thing. Loki became numb.

Now, a levee had broken within him.

May gods have mercy on Thor's soul, because Loki's gonna rip him to shreds.

* * *

Thor had always known his brother was a little more volatile than most men his age. He's always been explosive and quick to turn into a furious, violent little ball of rage. Thor had always blamed it on the kid's short-circuited nerves, frayed till they simply stopped working right. He had been that way since Thor could remember- and Thor could remember it all. Those years when Loki had simply stopped handling things, when he had stopped coping. Thor had come home from work to find Loki and Odin in a knock-down (sometimes, literally) drag-out (also, literally, on occasion) fight. And it wasn't a vocal fight, not always. He had seen his father strike his little brother until it felt like Thor's heart was the one taking the beating. He had cleaned up the blood, which had been ripped from his brother's veins by both Odin's harsh hand and Loki's gleaming blades. He had held him down when he was yelling and fighting, trying to get back to something that would only hurt him. Self-harm had scarred him deep enough that he was surprised it hadn't started to show up on his skin, too.

Those years had been the hardest.

Or so he had thought, five years ago.

Everything had been getting better, when Odin showed up and broke through Thor's icy walls. He had convinced Thor that something had to be done to stop Loki's sinful ways- and it was true, the young man had spiraled downward after Tony and he had broken up. Loki had stumbled upon a numbed, carnal path in life, finding it easier to handle than simply hurting day-after-day. And Thor knew this, he could see the falling sensation in the way Loki walked, the way he talked- so silent and laconic- the way he looked at Thor. And it broke his heart because he knew he could never change it, he could never save Loki, not even from himself.

But Odin had breezed in like a hero out to save the day. Surely, Thor was smart enough to see the ruse.

He wasn't.

_There was blood everywhere. On his hands, on his clothes, on Loki's face, on Loki's clothes, on his trembling fingers. Verdant eyes looked at him, filled with tears and astonishment and the beginnings of odium. He touched the wounds, the tears running faster down his face._

_"Oh, gods, Loki." Thor looked down at him, reaching out to touch him. But Loki flinched away. He might as well have slapped Thor- and really, he wished he had because it was the passionate Loki way, but this...it was just fear. Loki feared him. _

_Thor moved away from his brother, leaning over and heaving up his last meal- and possibly his guts along with it. It was violent and made his entire body shake. What had he done. He could hear Loki getting up, stumbling, a muffled cry escaping his lips when he hit the ground again. So, Thor did all he could._

_He stood straight, looking down at the blood on his hands. "You'll never forgive me, will you." It wasn't really a question. They both knew the answer was far too clear. But Loki, ever dramatic and slightly histrionic, answered nonetheless._

_A vase hit the wall, shattering in front of Thor. _

_Thor nodded, not turning to look at his baby brother- the love of his life. _

_And he walked away. _

_He had done enough damage. _

The look in Loki's eyes that day haunted his dreams. The pure terror in them, the disbelief, the prayer that it was merely another horrific nightmare. And Thor had said the same prayer, wanting to wake up and call the man, tell him what had happened, listen to Loki's even, sleep-heavy breathing on the other end of the line. But no matter how hard Thor pinched himself, he didn't wake up.

And now, he could see that loathing that had started five years ago in his brother's eyes stronger than ever as he strode towards Thor like a man on a mission. Thor had seen that before, seen Loki turn into a predator, something to be feared and awed. Loki was a hurricane, and unless you knew how to find the eye of the storm, you would be caught in the carnage. The green eyed man marched up to him, bunching Thor's shirt in his long, shaking hands and shoving him backward.

People scattered, and Thor's back slammed against a wall. "You asshole!" Loki growled, his voice rumbling and striking like a storm in his throat. "You told me- no, you fucking _swore-_ that you would tell me if anything changed." His skeletal knuckles were digging in under Thor's collarbone. It hurt.

And he knew exactly what was about to happen. Because he knew the man like the back of his hand, even after all their ups and downs, all the time they had spent estranged or hurt because of the other. No matter what, Thor loved Loki like his very existence revolved around the man, he loved him like he was the only soul on this earth, because they were connected by something invisible and stronger than pain, torture, love, death, loss. They were bound to each other by the Universe, their fates intertwined. But both of them had the power to break the bond, to sever the threads betwixt them , keeping them close to each other even with an ocean between them.

* * *

He was planning on murdering him.

Fun Fact #2: Homicidal is a near-constant state of emotion for Loki. It has been since he learned the meaning of rage.

"You asshole!" He yelled, shoving the man back. To be perfectly honest, Loki hasn't hit a decibel of volume like that since he was sixteen and neck-deep in a fight he couldn't handle. "You told me you would let me know anything that would change my mind. You promised. You swore on the fucking Bible. You told me, Thor! You swore." He gripped his shirt, pulling them eyeball-to-eyeball, sea green against ocean blue. The fucking emotion cracking his voice was almost too much to ignore, but somehow, Loki found the balls of steel necessary to go through with this in a room where every pair of eyes was now focused on one person. Him.

"Loki, I-" Thor started, his eyes wide and his hands cautiously gripping Loki's wrists. But Loki detected a sense of knowing within the bigger man. Thor wasn't _stupid,_ just uneducated.

_"No!"_ He shoved the bigger man back a few more steps. Fury and a low, simmering ache started to heat up within him. "I trusted you." His voice was liquid, spat in the face of a man who had unleashed his fury on him one too many times. "You said, if anything might change your mind, _brother,"_ He said the word like it was a dirty oath. "I'll let you know." He was snarling, his voice gravel and ground up glass and chewed up magma. He sounded like a demon.

Fun Fact #3: Nothing gives away Loki's mental, emotional, and physical state like his voice. It changes from moment to moment, cluing in any observant person as to how he feels at any given moment. Like right now, you could hear in his voice that he was about .05 seconds away from ripping Thor's head off and eating it for breakfast- because it's almost 3 a.m. and he's famished and exhausted and shaking so hard it is truly astonishing to him that he's still got a hold of Thor.

"Loki, please. I...I was looking out for you." And at this point, Thor should really be careful what he says because Loki's fingernails are digging into his collar so sharply, it's nearly torn.

Really, this moment is like a catalyst for Loki. He's stood up to Thor before, but not in five years. In the past five years, Loki had learned to hold his silver tongue, keeping his sharp comments to himself and tamping down his cynicism and hatred for his family. He's kept the peace, but this? This was the straw that broke the camel's back.

"I don't need you to look out for me, Thor! I don't need you to protect me anymore! I've had enough of that, thank you." His voice is venom. His voice is a spreading poison. His voice is dripping acid. "I'm fairly sure I have enough scars thanks to your protection." He snarled.

He can see Thor's cerulean eyes tracing the scars around his mouth, following the curvature of his lips. "I'm sorry, Loki. How many times must I apologize before you'll stop tormenting me for it?" He's whispering, their eyes still locked together.

Loki steps back like he's been hit. And maybe he has. He can't remember, because those words were like a brick to the head. "Apologize?" He shook his head. "Thor, I don't want your apologies. A few words can't take away what you've done." He laughs, breathy and filled with the full extent of his despise. "You broke me like it was your sole goal in life. You've made a living of taking me apart, piece by piece. You have literally torn me to pieces." He wrapped his arms around his ribs. "And you think a few words can make all that just, _poof."_ He snickered, shaking his head again. "You should be on your knees, begging me to do so little as to just torment you." He sounds like a thunderstorm, like a building earthquake. "You should wish that I would have enough mercy, as to listen to your pathetic apologies." By now, they're the entertainment of the party. Even the music had fallen silent. But Loki wasn't finished. "You think you can just waltz through life, riding on your pretty looks and your sweet ignorance. But it's not enough with me, Thor. For once in my life, I entrusted you with something closer to my heart than even you were! I entrusted you with _him._ I gave him to you, to watch, and to let me know if I had somehow gotten it all wrong- against all odds. And when you realized I had, not only did you neglect to tell me, but did everything in your fucking might, to make sure I never found out." Loki has become a maelstrom. His voice could kill.

His hands are itching to lash out.

His tongue is slicing through the air like lightning.

"Loki, it's not like that. I didn't want to keep you away from happiness, but you never were!" He reached out, flinching when Loki jerked out of reach. "I tried to help you. I wanted you to start over." Tears- forbidden to fall by the all mighty Allfather- glassed over cobalt eyes. "Father said-"

Loki burst out laughing, every joint in his body aching like smoke had woven into his bones. "Father said! Oh, well, if father said it, it _must_ be true, right?" He shook his head, feeling something in his soul decay and die. Something like the capacity to love, to forgive, to understand. "Silly me." He took a step back.

"Loki, that's not fair! I know I've done some things in the past...you have the right to be upset, but at some point, brother, you must move on. If you stay like this-"

"Like what, Thor?" His voice sounds like a warning, red lights are flashing in his eyes. Thor must know he's on thin ice here. "Do you think me wicked? Do you think me a sinner? Am I wrong to loathe those who've hurt me continuously?" He laughed. "You'd think so, wouldn't you? Because Father, oh, Father can do no wrong. Father is a god, isn't he, brother?" His voice is down and dirty, nastier than a marsh, sucking and pulling at their feet, dragging them down.

And this is where Loki found himself every time he came back, every time he went 'home'. He had known better, he had seen it, he had prophesied to a close friend- Natasha- that he would regret coming back. So, why had he? For a chance to make things right? No. For a chance to see the man he loved? Perhaps. To make Thor feel as if everything was 'okay' between them, that they were once again brothers after all that had happened and the estrangement that they had just gotten over?

Ah. Jackpot.

And of course, when Loki has one of these brilliant ideas to help Thor feel better, it undoubtedly comes back to bite him in the ass. Because, Loki is just so easy to stamp down, to kick in the ass, to stab in the back. It's like there's a 'Kick Me' sign on his back. He has lived his entire life getting shoved down by life, and the people who seemed to be bigger and stronger and more beautiful than he was.

Thor rolled his eyes, and really, Thor, you shouldn't do that when Loki's close enough to scratch out your pretty blue eyeballs. "You're ridiculous, you know that? You get all melodramatic over the smallest things! I made a mistake! If getting down on my knees and kissing your feet and begging your forgiveness would make a difference, I would, Loki. But nothing satisfies you! I've done everything I can to redeem myself to you! When will your desire to make me suffer for my sins be sated?" He had gotten in Loki's face, his eyes dark and his voice a low growl, nothing short of the thunder that had started outside.

"Had you considered, brother," Loki spat, nose-to-nose with a man he had leaned on, cried on, and been beaten and broken by. "That perhaps, there is a point when a person can't forgive any longer? When someone has forgiven so much, that he's eventually out of grace? All things have a limit, even clemency. Just ask god." He snarled. "They have a hell for a reason."

Thor stood back, gripping his wrists so tightly, Loki was sure he'd have bruises in the shape of a big, strong hand. There were still callouses from the years of throwing a football and tackling men twice Loki's side. He could feel a scar on the inside of his thumb, from that one time when he had snatched a razor out of Loki's hand, and accidentally sliced himself deep enough that Loki took him to the hospital to get stitches- conveniently coming up with a story about kitchen knives and Loki just happened to be wearing long sleeves. To this day, Loki couldn't look at Thor's wide, tanned hands without remembering the concern in his brother's eyes that night. "I guess I'll see you there, Loki." He shook his head, letting out a pained laugh. "Or maybe you're already there?" His midnight blue eyes pierced deep into Loki's eyes.

Loki growled deep in his throat, shoving his brother back hard. "You tell me. Wasn't it you who put me there?" And no, there aren't tears in his emerald eyes, Loki just has allergies. Allergies to things like emotions and uncontrollable misery and sadness that's been following him around for decades. When he developed this intolerance, he doesn't know, but he's pretty sure it was around the first time his 'father' hit him.

He stepped back, keeping his eyes down. Suddenly, the rest of the world rushes back like when he touched Thor it made everything disappear but them. Like, he and Thor had been the only two people in this world. And Loki finds that that happens to him a lot. It had been that way with Stark. Occasionally, when he and Natasha were talking about something serious- and oh my god, that is a rare occasion- it happened with her, too. But right now, with the world suddenly spinning again, far too fast, Loki realizes every eye in the house is focused on him.

Oh, my, Misanthropy, how Loki has missed you.

* * *

Tony had hailed a cab, gotten in, and buckled his seatbelt- whiskey still in hand, mind you- when he realized that this was a stupidly idiotic idea. I mean, sure, Loki told him he could come. He had said it was alright. But was it? Was Tony capable of handling this? Could he take in that perfect, beautiful, wondrous human being that his heart still pined for without losing it? Could he keep himself restrained- the answer is _no,_ in case you were wondering- when he saw him?

Moments were sashaying through his head, reminding him of the way Loki smiled, the way his eyes seemed a little off-kilter when he was drunk, how his spine arched when they were making love. All these little moments and personality quirks that Tony had filed away- a file he was never supposed to have opened, for his sanity's sake. Because, the laws of Tony Stark's Sanity are these:

1) No Loki Laufeyson allowed.

2) No memories allowed.

3) When one mentions Loki, Howard, or Thanos, one must be given a death-threat glare and told to shut the fuck up by one Pepper Potts.

4) When Tony is invited to a party where Loki will be present, one Pepper Potts must stop him. If Pepper Potts is not around, anyone bigger than Tony may substitute.

5) Pills are not allowed.

6) Alcohol is not allowed- and _yes,_ this is the most frequently broken rule.

7) Alcohol and pills are not to be mixed, and if they are, one Pepper Potts must call 911 because it is more than likely an attempt at suicide. Suicide is not acceptable according to Tony's Sanity.

Tony's Sanity had only recently added the last rule, about a month ago when Pepper found him in his lab, passed out and almost dead from an overdose. She had also found a few letters that Tony prayed she hadn't read. Of course, knowing Potts there was no doubt that she had. She had almost become his mother over the past ten years, making sure he ate, bathed, and slept, and of course, that he didn't kill himself with caffeine, nicotine, and alcohol.

Tony came back from the past when the cab stopped- ahem, he's in New York City, so they more like screeched to a shaking, shuddering halt that rattled Tony's brain within his skull. He paid the cabbie, stumbling out of the car and staring up at the monstrosity of a house. It was dwarfed by Tony's house, sure, but it was still luxurious by normal standards. It kind of shocked him, because Thor was the type to get down and dirty, to accept the simplest, to take whatever was shoved in his face instead of reaching for higher. Loki was the ambitious one of the Odinson family- if one counted foster children as part of a family, and Tony did because he didn't understand Loki's side of things all the time. Sure, Odin was a dick, but Loki loved his brother more than he loved himself. Anyone with half a brain could see that.

He let his eyes travel upward, towards a balcony, where a person was leaning against the railing. Smoke trailed in front of this person's face, but Tony would know that slim, lithe, powerful figure anywhere. There's a blizzard coming, and Tony still doesn't know if he's ready to face it yet. But good god, he can't wait any longer. It's time.

See, when Tony had fully recovered from, ya know, dying and all, his first thought had been: **'Where the fuck is Loki?'** His second thought was a resounding, heartbreaking: **'Oh.'** Because, as far as Loki knew, he hadn't died. He hadn't had Palladium poisoning. From Loki's perspective, he was just a royal douche who broke his heart for absolutely no reason. And sure, he had called Thor- getting a royal bitching out- and begged him to tell Loki the real story. He had called Natasha, wheedled information out of Clint, even talked to Frigga. But none of them had been able to tell him what Loki knew, if Loki had heard his side of the story, if Loki fucking knew that _he still loved him_? And sure, he could've gone to Germany, or London, or Brussels, or wherever the fuck he was. But if Tony knew one thing about Loki, it was that he _needed_ his space.

Perhaps ten years had been enough space for him?

Of course, that was a little too much hope for Tony to successfully swallow. When it came to Hope and silly, foolish things like that, Tony had a killer gag reflex. But sometimes, when Tony's weak, and his walls are shaking, and he's a little too drunk for it to be healthy, he considers Hope and Love and all the things that happy people have and believe in. He thinks that those people are lucky. He wonders if they know how privileged they are? Do they know what they have, and how rare and precious and sumptuous those things are? Do they realize how much he would give to have these things?

No.

Because happy people live in a happy world with other happy people. Rarely do they come across misery like Tony's. Rarely do they spare such people as Tony a second glance. He doesn't fit in their world. He is invisible to their blissful, ignorant view of the world. That's the curse of happiness. Ignorance.

But, ignorance is bliss, no?

* * *

Clint had latched onto him the moment he stepped into the building. He babbled relentlessly in Tony's ear, shoving alcohol into his hands. After a minute, Tony located Clint's better half, standing across the room and watching him with serpentine eyes. For a second, he held her gaze, trying to verify his worst fears, or make his wildest dreams come true. But two eyes like hers couldn't do much for him. He needed to find two identical eyes, emerald green and the shape of his heart.

"It was cray-cray, Tony. Loki went all badass and smart motherfucker on him. The whole fucking party just stopped." Tony snapped to attention, tuning in to Clint's rambling. "Like, I've never seen Thor actually scared. But, god damn, the whole crowd thought Loki was gonna go serial killer on his ass." Clint snickered, he'd never been too fond of Thor- and Tony has always thought that was because Thor had threatened to beat him up about twelve years ago when Clint was far too drunk and almost kissed the big blond man.

"Wait, Loki and Thor got in a fight?" He shook Clint's arm off his shoulder and turned to face the hazy blue eyes that were glued to him. Saying Clint is heterosexual, is like calling a right angle a straight line. "When?" He knew what family feuds meant. That Loki was somewhere, falling to pieces on the inside- possibly with the help of a razor. The mere idea shook his spine with a chilled shudder.

"Uh, like five seconds ago." He shrugged, too drunk to understand the mere concept of time.

Tony shook his head. "Clint." He put his hands on the man's shoulders, trying to ground him for like .05 seconds because the next words to come out of his mouth are god damn important. "Where is Loki?" He spoke slowly, trying to enunciate- although speaking fast, like he was talking in cursive, had always been his nature.

And we all know how good Tony is at going against his nature.

"Um, he's out there on the balcony. I mean, last time I saw him, anyways." Clint shrugged despite Tony's heavy hands.

"Thank you!" Tony decided against kissing him- although don't we all know how much Clint would love that?- and went to go find his love.

Er, ex-love.

Damn, is life a royal bitch.

"Tony Stark!" An imperial voice cuts through the crowd and slices right into Tony's eardrum. Really, he considers ignoring her, but that would carry some heavy consequences- like castration and Tony really likes his...nether regions as they are.

So, he spun, his face plastered with that plastic smile that Loki had always hated. "Natasha! It's good to see you. Been a while, and while I would just love to talk, I'm kind of in a hurry." He spoke hastily, every cell in his body vibrating with the desperate demand of his motherfucking traitor of a heart to talk to Loki. Yeah, even his body needs Loki. And oh, look. His mind has just plummeted to the gutter while he's with the Ice Queen of the century who really wouldn't blink at the idea of 'fixing' him like he's a street mutt.

"Oh no you're not." She grabbed his arm in a vice grip that was sure to leave bruises. "Come on." She dragged him towards a quiet room. It was at the other side of the house, taking him far, far away from Loki. She shoved him down on a couch and sat on the coffee table opposite him. "I know why you're here. And I know...I've heard the whole story, Tony. But, I need to know..." She looked down at her clasped hands. "I need to know the real, true, private reason why you left him before I can let you anywhere near him." There was a tremor in her voice, and Tony knew that she really cared for her friend, that it wasn't just a best friendship, it was something far stronger. Love comes in so many forms.

Natasha _loved_ Loki.

He sat back, feeling tension seep into his every limb. It was palpable in the air, this precarious line they were walking between understanding and Natasha clawing his eyes out like a vindictive tiger. Mother Russia had spawned a truly _powerful_ woman when she gave the world Natasha Romanoff. "I didn't want him to have to watch me die. I felt like it would be easier for him to be...away when I, y'know, croaked." He shrugged. "I thought that it would come out on the news, and that it would kind of explain for me. I thought breaking up with him might give him some closure in my death. He had been through so much, and I knew that the last days would be really painful. He didn't need to go through that with me." He explained in a quiet voice, feeling the throbbing music vibrate through the closed door. The alcohol in him kept him warm despite the frigid temperature radiating from Natasha's eyes.

"He was a big boy, Stark. Shouldn't he have decided for himself? It's not like he needs another father." Her voice was colder than Siberia.

He cocked an eyebrow. "I wasn't being his father. I was being his boyfriend. I just loved him too much to put him through that, Romanoff." Last names? Oh, Tony can play that game too, love. "Contrary to popular belief, there are a few people in this world I am willing to put before myself." Because, yeah, Tony loved Loki more than he loved himself, or alcohol- yeah, _that_ much.

"But you didn't, Tony!" She stood, shaking her head. "What you did was selfish. It was for you, to spare you!" She leaned down, eyeball-to-eyeball. "You didn't want to see him in pain, so you got rid of him. You heartless bastard." Her voice broke, but she forged onward. "He was broken. Have you seen the scars? Huh? Have you seen what you caused? Let me show you." She pulled her phone out, bringing up photos. "Look. See what you did to him." She threw the phone at him.

Tony's hand was shaking as he flipped through photo after photo of crimson lace laying deep and marring against snowy white satin. "I didn't want this to happen, Natasha." He could hear the struggling, teary sound of his own voice, but he didn't care. His dignity was gone, long before he started to cry. It's been long dead, given up for the freedom of killing oneself in plain sight. "I wanted him to heal. To go on. To be...happy."

God damn happiness.

God damn it to hell.

"Fantastic job." She snatched her phone back, her face streaked with tears. "You better make this fucking right, Mr. Stark. I will skin you alive if you hurt him again. Do you understand me?" Her voice was shaking, but there was no doubting the verism in her voice.

He stood, taking her hand. "Natasha, even if you think everything else that falls from my mouth is a lie, believe this: I love Loki. I love him more than myself, even if it's in a twisted, tainted, foolish way. I really do."

Truer words had never been spoken.

* * *

Tony stood by the balcony for a few minutes, reminding himself that breathing was kind of essential to living. And in turn, reminding himself that he did, in fact, want to live. His hands were shaking and he was itching for a cigarette and the strongest alcohol Thor's bartender had on hand. He could drink an ocean of the nepenthe right now. But alas, when one is given the choice between Loki Laufeyson or alcohol, one always chooses Loki Laufeyson. At least, if one is Tony Stark.

So, he squares his shoulders and takes a deep, shuddering breath. Trembling fingers turn the doorknob.

* * *

A/N: **So. It's kinda long. And it ends on a cliffhanger. And there's, um, a little angst. So. Review, maybe? I mean, hell, if you're reading this AN, you read that whole monster. I need your opinion. -gets on knees and begs- Please?**

**THOR. Ha. So much family shit. **

**I LOVE ALL YOU BEAUTIFUL MOTHERFUCKERS. **

**Have a good...um. Weekend, is it? Week?**

**~xoxox, Rayn.**


	2. Chapter 2- You Lost Me

A/N:_ I swear to you, I deleted the first thousand words of this at least ten times. And yeah, the only reason I was capable of posting this chapter, is because I didn't let myself read back over it (any mistakes you can blame on my unfailing self-deprecation). _

_The chapter title is You Lost Me by Christina Aguilera._

_Warnings: Some suicidal thoughts (it's backkkkkk, the warnings will be coming in full force. *fake giddiness* I swear, I don't try to make them miserable. It just happens.). Angst. ANGST. Bad words. I think that's it..._

_Disclaimer: All I own is the misery depicted in these chapters. And the occasional, rare, never-to-happen-twice-in-a-row moments of bitter-sweet happiness. I don't own Stark, or Loki, or any of the other beautiful Marvel characters that have caught the hearts and eyes of many *cough* Tom Hiddleston *cough* Robert Downey Jr. *cough*. Stan Lee, I bow to your superior skills, and give you all the credit due. (P.S. Marry me, maybe?)_

* * *

Loki thought it was funny what standing on a balcony could do to a person who had considered suicide too many times to be mentally sane. It was funny how his thoughts immediately turned to calculating the likelihood of one dying when one hit the concrete from such a height. It was funny how he gazed down at the sidewalk and wondered what his blood would look like spread across the dirty concrete slab directly below him. And wasn't it funny, that Loki very nearly goes for his first- and last- flight when the door behind him opens and blasts his sensitive skin with heat from the inside of Thor's posh palace?

He didn't turn, didn't move. He knew who it was standing beside him, their gaze on the back of his neck feeling like the nerve-tingling burn of a flame. He had felt that gaze one too many times to forget it- even after an agonizing ten years spent with Loki breaking down, burning into ashes, every emotion fraying his nerves even further because feeling anything after all the pain he had gone through was just too much to handle. He had given up on love, trading it for sexual lust that ended after a night and an empty bed in the mornings. He had come to the realization that sex rarely wounded as deeply as love, that it left- at most- a physical ache and perhaps a few bruises to be covered up by clothing and a lopsided, shaky smile. He had come to accept the idea that perhaps, if he drowned himself in meaningless sex and men and women who came and went without a name, he might be able to go on.

But he hadn't.

And the man behind him hadn't either, Loki could feel it.

"Loki?" And after a cigarette too many, and nights filled to the brim with whiskey, and yelling at the top of his lungs at an experiment gone awry, Stark's voice had gotten shoved into a husky, low, growling tone that Loki found he loved almost as much as the young voice that had sung into his ear at midnight ten years ago. Ten years ago when they had been younger and love had seemed to hold no consequence, and when pain had been something held at bay when they were in each other's arms and the air was filled with Loki's moans and Stark's heavy breath against his skin.

Loki bit his lip, remembering the scars surrounding his mouth and wondering what the inventor would think of the new scars, the new reminders that things were hardly ever happy and calm in Loki's life, that his emotions were as choppy and fickle as the stormy ocean waves, and that he had been damaged even more by people who were supposed to love and cherish him, who were supposed to save him from pain but instead caused it over and over again.

"Hello, Stark. So good of you to come. I'm sure Thor appreciates it." According to Clint's somewhat slurred confessional, Stark had become a national hero- Iron Man. Loki wasn't sure how he felt about it, considering the man's penchant for self-denial and self-destruction.

Saying they had problems was like saying the sun was hot.

Being an ice-cold bitch was like second nature to Loki- which was saying it wasn't his entire nature, which might've been the teensiest white lie- and it was coming to him like it was part of his bone marrow right now. Sure, he wanted to turn around and grab Anthony Stark in a terrible, biting, hitting, angry hug. He wanted to ask him why he had never told him the truth, to yell and bitch and scream at the man for being such a moron. But he didn't, because that wasn't how the world worked. Not Loki's world.

He had been raised to take abuse and be quiet about it.

"I didn't come for Thor." The discomfort in his voice was apparent, Loki could hear the strain in his tone, the way his voice had suddenly become a little higher and less controlled.

So he wanted the same thing.

But Stark had never been one to hold back his feelings, he had never remained reserved and respectful, he was never vague or anything but painfully blunt. Then again, neither of them were really very good when it came to dealing with emotions or coping or understanding other people's pain and heartbreak. Suffice to say, when people wanted sympathy, they didn't turn to Loki or Anthony- unless of course, that person's name was either Natasha or Clint.

Fun Fact #3: Loki's been bottling up his grief and the sting of abuse and harsh, uncaring 'love' for years. He's been holding it all in and it's bound to explode any minute to consume those around him in a blinding, throbbing bomb of rage and misery and suffering.

It's funny what the voice of someone you love can do to you. It can quickly turn everything inside of you into a tangled bunch of knots, twisting, turning, hot and uncomfortable. It can make you tense, every muscle in your body turning into a rigid, immovable iron rod. It can turn your spine into this terrible thing that wont move no matter how hard you try to make it. It can make your eyes want to squeeze closed but incapable of shutting out the sight you both want to see and are so petrified of even your brain can't process so much fear. All that fear will overtake your entire system, essentially turning you into something you wouldn't recognize in a line-up, a creature so possessed by things it doesn't understand that recognition of oneself becomes impossible.

Or, that's how Loki feels.

"Oh, really?" His voice is imperial, he sounds like a prince lounging on a thrown in his pajamas and a glinting crown. Maybe even a scepter. Oh yes, Loki would definitely be the scepter type. "Who did you come to see, then?" He turned around, carefully keeping his face in the shadows because he just wasn't ready for Stark's reaction to the painful, twisting, lacy scars surrounding his sharp-tongued mouth.

Stark's face contorted, drawing a painful strike of heat through Loki's stomach- which he successfully ignores. Emotions? _What_ emotions. "Loki, I came to see you. I...I miss you." And the words contain so much unadulterated anguish and honesty and it's the first sincere word he's heard out of Stark's mouth and he really can't understand all the feelings and emotions and sordid, unsufferable torture that's running through his system.

And after all this time Loki's got the emotional backlog of a man who shut down the first time he got broken, shoving everything down and out of sight, sweeping all the repercussions of getting hurt, beaten, raped, mentally and physically abused for pretty much his entire thirty-year long life. And he hasn't understood how truly fucked-up he was inside for years. Years. And it's just like fucking Anthony Stark to shove him under the bright lights and show him exactly who he was when there weren't some pretty, deceitful shadows to hide all his blemishes and hideous scars and all the ugly things he doesn't want to see. Since the moment Loki met him, Stark has been revealing Loki to himself, showing him things from every angle: the Good, the Bad, and the Ugly. You can guess which one he's showing Loki now.

Yep.

The Ugly.

Because Loki's carrying around some really ugly luggage right now, and he doesn't want to let it go- who the hell would he be if he weren't the stubborn ass, anger willed, tired victim?- because he can't fathom who he might be without it. Who would he become if he weren't weighed down by this anger and suffering?

I think it's safe to say that Loki really, really needs a therapist.

It is terrifying to look in the mirror and see merely a shadow of who you could be if you just let go of the past. It's even more terrifying to consider actually letting go and finding out. Heinous terror comes in to play when you attempt to discover yourself without this comforting idea of who you are without your full potential- because who's to say you actually have potential (although any soul who so much as glanced at Loki could just tell he was full of hidden talent). So many things scare Loki Laufeyson. But none scares him so much as he himself.

"It's been ten years, Stark. How many women have you had in your bed, hmm?" He scoffed, shaking his head and turning around to light another cigarette, cupping his hand around the lighter to keep the flickering flame from disappearing completely. "I stopped believing whatever words fell from your lips ten years ago." The words were brash and cruel, possibly even unfair, but he didn't care.

Of course, that wasn't true. Loki did care, very much. He always cared. He supposed that was why he was the one getting hurt, instead of the other way around. Because he could throw hurtful words and use people's deep, dark secrets against them just like they used his against him- but he never did. He was too nice- a wordsmith with a conscience, you might say.

Stark bristled visibly. Loki could practically see his hackles raising and the violence in his eyes- always simmering under the surface- kicking into high gear. "I was with women because you didn't come back to me!"

_You pretentious little shit._ was well implied in Stark's tone.

"And how was I supposed to know to come back to you, Anthony? I'm not telepathic, sorry to disappoint." He snapped, smoke pouring out along with the sarcasm and cynicism. Let's not be rash enough to say Loki's about to claw Stark's eyes out- but it is implied, certainly. "I couldn't bear to watch the news. Do you want to know why?" And Loki can see in the dreadfully sorrowful look in Anthony's big brown eyes that he doesn't, but he forges on anyways. Why should Stark's obviously precarious emotional state bother him anyways? -snort- "Because I was too afraid of seeing a picture of you, or a segment on something crazy you'd done that would send me spiraling into insanity again! Do you know what that did to me? Do you know how fucked-up I am because of you?" Ghost pains are striking full force, running along his arms and ribs and thighs and hips and Loki can't believe how terrible it is that this has to hit right fucking now.

"Don't you dare blame your issues on me! You've always been damaged, Loki! I didn't do this to you." And perhaps the most cruel, vicious thing about this whole conversation is that Stark isn't trying to help Loki, he's not comforting him like he would have once upon a time. This time, Stark is agreeing that there is something detrimentally screwy about Loki, that he is 'fucked-up'. Loki will never admit that such traitorous words are striking through him like a harpoon.

Fun Fact #4: Loki's pride is probably his biggest advantage over Thor and Odin and Thanos and all manner of terrible people who've ripped his emotions out of their proper mooring in Loki's soul and displaced them in all the wrong emotional areas of his subconscious. However, his condescending nature and calling-card pretentious attitude had also gotten him in a lot of trouble and too many fights that he couldn't win.

"Oh really?" His voice is venom, he sounds like a viper, ready to strike and all too willing to use deadly force. But he doesn't want to, because that would make him lose just a little bit of himself. And Loki has already lost so much to this insufferable man who just won't leave him- or his rapidly decaying self control- alone. He can't take this. He cannot refuse the urge to wrap this terribly miserable man in an intolerably tight hug that has them both gasping for air and laughing in embarrassment and wishing they were behind closed doors where hugs turned into something more, something desperate and levels deeper than either of them would ever admit out loud. But that was the thing that was so different about Stark, everything didn't have to be out in the open, '_I love you_' wasn't always three little words, sometimes the most important things that they would always hold close to their hearts were spoken through the eyes, brown-clash-green.

"Loki, this isn't why I came tonight. I...I know I fucked up. And I know I hurt you." And that inflection, that emphasis, Loki would know it anywhere. It's guilt. His fingers clenched into a fist because he knew right then and there that somehow, Stark knew. "But I'm-"

Loki held up a long, white, shaking hand. "She told you? Showed you?" He asked, his voice defeated and something that looked like Shame, talked like Shame, and walked like Shame had suddenly taken up residence within him.

Shame.

God damn, it's been a while.

* * *

Tony can tell he said something wrong. He always could because on occasion- usually when he's really pissed off and someone's about to get their shit fucked up by one tiny young man with an incredible amount of adrenalin- Loki's face was an open book. And right now, he looked pissed to hell and sad. Tony wasn't sure which to be more afraid of, or which lie was the best one to tell. Because Loki could see through Tony's lies like they had a hole burned right into the heart of them.

"Yes." His voice was quiet, an attempt to mask the quiver that denoted the onslaught of tears. Drinking before exceedingly emotional crises was not a good idea- like Tony hadn't figured this out ten years ago, and before? Like he hadn't learned this lesson a few dozen times between Howard, Stane, Potts, and Loki. Like he wasn't well aware that this was probably going to end up with him ready to scream and cry and give Loki a crushing hug because they both knew Tony was dragging the smaller man through hell because Tony wanted heaven.

Let it never be said that Tony is a hero.

He is anything but.

He is selfish, self-centered, self-pleasing, self-self-self consumed. But such is the life of a playboy billionaire, no? He was just playing the part, but he was losing who he really was beneath the mask, mask melding quickly with the real skin he lived in. One day, he wouldn't be able to separate one from the other. And isn't that just a tad scary?

"Bloody hell." The words spill past Loki's lips like undulating thunder, lightning crashing against Tony's ear drums. Blue light flashes off the man's hair, shuddering in Tony's sight for a split second like a effervescent ghost. And the words drew Tony's sharp eyes to a sinewy arm- Loki's got his sleeves rolled up and Tony really can't get over how sexy the man is right here and right now- where scars skipped and sprawled and tripped up Loki's arms. If they hadn't been so horrible, they might have been beautiful. And once upon a time, Tony would've drawn Loki close, running his fingers up those scars, and begging Loki for the story behind each one. Maybe that's how they had tried to heal each other, by making each other recognize the truth, acknowledge it and move on. They just didn't really handle the truth well, both being masters of disguise and deceit- and gods know this has only gotten worse with age because right now, they're both denying that they have feelings or that love is an actual thing or that maybe the other was just as fucked and screwed over by the past as they were.

"I'm sorry. Loki, sincerely." He was past his pride, past this facade of not being affected by Loki's nonchalance and bitter coldness- it's like winter kicked up a few notches because Tony can feel this chill down to his very soul- past pretending like he was just as bitter and cold as Loki wanted to be. And he can read it in the man's face, how much he needed to be held, how much he wanted to jump into Tony's arms and hold him tight.

Gods, they needed each other.

But, oh how they would make each other miserable.

Loki laughed, shaking his head. "You think I want an apology from you?" Loki's voice had dropped into something between a wolf growl and the rolling rumble of thunder. "I don't. I want to know why you didn't trust me enough to tell me the truth. I deserved the truth, Stark." If you listened really hard- and we all know Tony was just hanging on Loki's every word- you could hear the quiver in Loki's words. The silent mention of suffering, of anguish, of misery. And Tony knew he had caused all of it.

He shook his head, putting a hand on his hip and shoving the other back through his tangled, unruly hair. Had he taken a shower before he came here? No. Which is why he looked like a grease monkey- all black grease and rust and dust and ash- instead of the respectable human being Pepper tried to turn him into on occasion. "I was scared it would just hurt you more. I swear to god, Loki, if I had known there was a possibility I might live..." He shook his head again. "I never would've broken up with you. Gods, I wanted to spend my life with you! But I knew, I knew you'd lost so much. And some things you hadn't ever gotten closure over. And, I didn't want to be just another weight dragging you down the rest of your life. I thought for sure, if I broke up with you, in a few days- when I was...y'know, dead- you'd figure it out and it'd all be resolved and okay and you wouldn't end up broken! I was a dead man walking those last few weeks, Loki." He laughed, sorrow and misery bubbling up in his throat. "Everyone always told me, if you love something, let it free." He shrugged dejectedly. "You just didn't come back."

And to be perfectly honest, Tony knew exactly what he was doing when he watched Loki walk out that door on his birthday. He knew that no matter what happened, he would never see Loki smile at him again. He knew he would never have the man's trust again. It was a lose-lose situation; either he lived and Loki hated him for breaking his heart and trampling his trust, or he died and Loki lost someone he had opened up to and loved and gotten so close to that they were almost one person divided into two bodies.

Loki shook his head. "How could I? You said some terrible things to me, Stark. You..." He bit his lip, and Tony could see crimson start to line the seam of his lips. So he hadn't gotten rid of that penchant to destroy when he was cornered, when the whole world seemed to be against him.

Fun Fact #1: Tony never really lost track of Loki. All ten years, he knew his address, knew exactly how to get to his lodgings. He begged Thor for information- at the beginning- and wheedled Loki's mental, physical, and emotional status out of Clint- much to Natasha's chagrin. But it was never enough, and with each new bit of data about the boy he adored, Tony found himself wanting only more. He found himself digging his nails into a pillow and screaming in anger, or throwing a tablet or phone or chemical flask at the wall- accompanied by an angry expletive, of course. And it only got worse with time, because, as all normal people who've gone through severe heartbreak and losing someone- not in death, but by choice- knows that time doesn't heal anything.

"I what? Broke your heart? I know, Loki. But I broke my own, too." He ran his eyes across the dark- nearly purple against Loki's paper pale skin- scars again. A fist clenched around his heart, reminding him that it was still in there, beating irritatingly. Sometimes, he wished it would just give out, that one day everything would come to a halt and he'd die in an instant. Maybe that wish would come true, but those aren't thoughts he should be entertaining when Loki's looking at him with green eyes made of forest fires and crackling green leaves and the smell of eucalyptus after a heavy rain. "I have everything in the world, except the one thing I truly want." He looked at Loki openly, begging him to see the truth in it's full fleshed form.

But that's like asking Loki to stop the world from it's turning.

Because Loki never sees the truth.

Can you blame him?

"I am not a thing to be had, Stark." He breathed in the smoke, his eyes burning far brighter than the orange ember lighting the otherwise pitch dark night. "No one really realizes this, but I am not a toy made for your personal amusement and pleasure. I have feelings. I get hurt too." He walked closer to Tony, coming out of the shadows.

"I know that, Loki. And you know I've never treated you like something to be had. It's a fucking saying, Jesus." He rubbed his arms, realizing that it was really god damn cold and Loki had on a thin dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. "You know what I mean. You know I mean I love you." His voice cracked a little, betraying the emotion boiling inside his chest cavity, intruding the cavern without his permission and taking up residence there seemingly unyieldingly.

He walked closer to Tony, coming out of the shadows.

Tony froze, eyes sweeping over Loki's moving mouth- but he wasn't hearing a word. It wasn't really a conscious action, and in retrospect, maybe he shouldn't have zoned out quite so quickly. Of course, he wasn't really expecting Loki to slap him, either.

Then it wasn't just his hands feeling Loki's new, tangled, lacy scars surrounding his mouth.

It was his lips too.

* * *

It's a little funny, to realize that something that can make you miserable and angry and verging on homicidal can make you happy and loving and loved at the same time. It's a little funny to know that the man you wanted to fucking disappear ten minutes ago, is the same man you want to keep around for the rest of eternity because he's just that fucking beautiful and splendid and unfailingly wrong for you. It may be the only thing they're committed to, keeping away from that last inch of pure hatred that brings about murder. It may be the only promise they can keep-_ I swear I won't kill you in your sleep, I swear you'll get a chance to fight back. _And the only promises they may keep will probably start out as jokes.

But, it's better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved at all.

* * *

A/N:_ Terrible, wasn't it? I know, I know, I hate me too. And no, this chapter doesn't actually have a happy ending, but shhhhh. That's a secret. _

_Review. Oh my god, please. Review. I live for reviews. If I don't get them, my heart starts to give out and my lungs slow down and I start to gasp for air and its really a pathetic way to die..._

_DEATH BY LACK OF REVIEWS._

_So histrionic._

_I LOVE YOU ALL. I hope your lives are getting on fabulously._

_P.S. I know I broke the rules by adding Fun Facts for Tony, but I've been toying with the idea for centuries. What do you guys think? Yay or nay?_

_~xoxox, Rayn_


	3. Chapter 3- Just Give Me A Reason

_A/N: _**The chapter title is Just Give Me A Reason by P!ink and Nate Ruess of FUN. **

**Lots of warnings.**

**WARNINGS (because CAPS): Violence, near-rape (I really don't plan this stuff. Don't kill me.). Bad words. Loki being an insulting BAMF. References to alcoholism and casual sex. Also, um, vulgar sexual dialogue. ANGSTTTTTT. **

**Enjoy, lovelies. **

* * *

Tony wakes up the same way he has been for the past ten years. A headache throbbing in his temple- in sync with the achy throbbing in the rest of his body-, sweaty, fur and acid residing grossly in his mouth. And then there's that irritating voice that's stabbing his eardrum like a jackhammer. "Pep, what the fuck.," He slurred, rolling over and shoving a pillow over his face because the light is like something from hell- all the flaming brightness of damnation and retribution for his sins.

"Tony, c'mon, it's time to get up, sunshine." She sounded like a chirpy, bright songbird or something and Tony was about ready to take a knife to his ears just to make the sound stop. "You have a busy day." She grabbed his arm and pulled. Cue one anguished, tortured groan.

Tony is a billionaire, Potts, he doesn't have to go to meetings or be on time or- god forbid- do what's expected of him.

The pillow was snatched away from him and the stabbing light hit him full on and right now Tony would be willing to do almost anything to not be living in this moment. And drinking has never been so tantalizing as it right now- hair of the dog and whatnot- and getting drunk really has a certain appealing ring to it that he might not be able to resist- like he would try. But Pepper would never take no for an answer, so he got up and grabbed a cup of water.

Outside, the sun beat down incessantly on the City- obviously fog and smog was taking a day off (of course, when Tony would pay billions for that dark cloud that always seems to be hanging over his head). Nevertheless, the glimmering, shining silver city has a beauty to it in the sunlight that cant be paralleled. In the past few years, he had been all over the world, seeing cities infamous for their sparkling sights and wondrous views- but nothing compares to his City.

New York had and always would be his home, no matter where he built houses or vacationed or how often he was gone. When it came down to it, he would always return. He had been spawned from the City's illustrious, decadent loins, giving him a life of pain, heartbreak, and brilliance. He had lived in lavishness and the underlying gloom of the billion-dollar club- the likes of his dad and many other men who would climb a ladder of bodies if it got them another cent. He had seen avarice and generosity, love and hatred, kindness and brutality, vice cutting at virtue who always turned another cheek. This place contained it all, like a Temple of Humanity, showing the world everything the Universe had offered this small, insignificant planet.

For Tony, such a sight was a drug.

It was an addiction.

Speaking of which…his brandy was hidden around here somewhere. A few empty glasses lay around- evidence of his hardcore pity party last night. But it hadn't been the first, and it surely wouldn't be the last. Tony had gotten into alcoholism at an age too young, and it had never left him- not even in the rare moments of pure happiness and joy. Because it was an anesthetic against the spades of ugliness and cruelty this world had to offer him. Because Karma was a bitch, and Tony had never been on the side of the angels.

He threw back glass after glass of water, trying to ease the throbbing in every pulse point, the sickly cold sweat that covered his body uneasily, the taste of something akin to sewage in his mouth. Potts bustled around him, running circles around his early-morning laziness. He couldn't help but view the woman as a blessing, something necessary that he couldn't survive without. And despite their failed attempts at romance- when Tony was drunk and sad and easily taken advantage of, when Pep had lost her determination not to make a move until he was ready- they had remained steadfast friends. When Loki had left, she had become a fixture by his side, taking care of him and trying her damnedest to make sure he didn't off himself from the pure grief that abounded within him. And when Stane was trying to essentially take over the world and win back whatever prosperity he thought he had been robbed of during his stint at Stark Industries, she had been there, talking him through it and doing whatever he ordered of her. It was then that she had become to him exactly what she had been to his father- a crutch, a necessity, a right-hand man to hold him up when he was all but flat on his ass.

He still hadn't told her about seeing Loki a week ago, or the kiss, or how his soul yearned to see the man again. Thor had come out, all but flying into a rage when he saw Loki and Tony, nearly attacking the inventor despite Loki's growling, thunderous commands to shut the fuck up and back the fuck off.

He squeezed his eyes shut against the memory, Loki and Thor locking together and in each other's faces like two snarling predator's. The glimmering hatred in their eyes and the tangled, lacy scars around Loki's mouth told him nothing between the two brothers had gotten any better during the interim. Nothing had been resolved- if anything, things had gotten worse (and Tony really hadn't thought that possible until he was standing on Thor's balcony and watching them throw insults and at each other's throats like he had never seen before). And yeah, both men were powerful and arrogant and Loki was an irascible fox while Thor was a growling hound dog and the two never really mixed. But Thor and Loki had been thrown together by fate or some higher power- who was maybe just trying to screw with them- and they had no other choice but to face each other.

Tony wondered again why he had ever wished for a sibling.

Families were horrid, sordid things.

"Tony?" His eyes snapped open to see Pepper looking at him with one hand on her hip, a cocked eyebrow, and a sincerely impatient look on her face that told him that wasn't the first time she had tried to get his attention. "Were you listening?" She sighed, glaring at him wearily.

"Am I ever?" He grinned cheekily. "You really need to take a day off, Potts. You're stressed." He ran a hand back over his hair, cringing to himself at the state of disarray it was in. Bed head was not his friend. He put his glass in the sink and sighed, leaning against the counter.

His head was in a whirlwind, thanks to Loki- and wasn't it always Loki's fault when he got like this? He was pining over a man who probably still hated his guts, because a kiss meant nothing to Loki. Usually. He had heard about the boy's philandering ways. And the comment about how many women Tony had taken into his bed had stung for precisely that reason. And it clued him into to just how hard Loki had wanted to move on, and been incapable of doing so. Because he hadn't had a real relationship for a decade.

Had he given up on love- as Tony had?

There were so many questions whirling around his head like a maelstrom, begging to be asked of Loki. But there was no Loki to ask. He had disappeared. Like a phantom, or a figment of his imagination. And if it weren't for Natasha banishing him from her presence with a scathing remark about how he made a mess of everything he touched, and Clint's consoling drink and ineffective words of comfort, he might have thought it was just a drunken dream.

"You have an important meeting in fifteen minutes, Tony. Could you possibly try not to be more than ten minutes late? Just this once? For me?" The exasperation in her voice nearly made Tony flinch.

"Cross my heart, Pep. I'll make it." He promised.

Like promises meant anything anymore.

* * *

Loki woke up with a jolt. He scowled at the sunlight bashing his brain- he had just woken up, couldn't god or the fucking sun give him a god damn break?- immediately. He rolled over and pressed his face into the sweet-smelling sheets. A warm hand ran up his back, making him flinch and bite back a groan. He had forgotten about that.

"Loki, are you awake?" A deep voice rolled into his ear, and the hand ran suggestively across his protruding hip bone. He was starting to feel a hickey on his neck, right over his thumping jugular vein. "C'mon, sunshine. Up and at'em." The voice had a breathy laugh in the tone.

He struggled to work up a smile, keeping the mask up. Just a little longer and he'd be gone- just like every other man or woman he invited into his bed. "Hi there." He rolled over, looking up into big brown eyes that just weren't what he wanted to see. "Sleep well?" He ran his hands back through his hair, staring up at the ceiling and stretching so hard that his back arched off the bed. He relaxed with a sigh.

"Mmm. Just a little stiff. You're wild." He laughed, nosing against Loki's neck, pressing a firm kiss to the strong muscle that rippled under his skin. "And I like that. So, I stuck around when you fell asleep." He ran a hand under the sheet laying across Loki's bare waist.

Loki frowned. "I was drunk." He shrugged, feeling the drag and pull of the mattress against his shoulder blades. He was beginning to get the picture here. And he wasn't okay with it. "I...no offense, but I'm not looking for a relationship. One night. We..I'm pretty sure I mentioned that last night." Right about the time they stumbled into his hotel room. Of course, the man had had his hand down Loki's pants and his teeth latched onto his collarbone at the time, but that was inconsequential.

The man pulled back to look down at him with a smirk. "Oh honey, I'm not talking about a relationship. I'm talking about sex, to be frank." Loki felt his hand slid down to that sensitive part of his thigh that was just short of an overtly erotic touch.

Loki rolled his eyes. "Look, _honey,"_ He spat, shoving off the mattress and pulling the sheet with him. He almost choked when his eyes fell on the man's, er, nether regions. How had he taken that? "I have sex on my terms, not yours." He pulled the sheet around him like a robe- there was one in the bathroom but he was not walking across the room naked as the day he was born. "And my terms are you getting your shit," He picked up a shirt that would have drowned him, "And getting the fuck out." He threw it at the man's face, looking around for his phone.

The man laughed. Laughed.

Oh, Loki's getting pissed now.

"Don't get upset. I know you're not easy. I had to practically beg to come to your room last night. But man, it was worth it. You can take a pounding, for such a skinny kid." He grinned at Loki obscenely. Let's just say Loki's about two inches from kicking the man out on his naked ass- to put it nicely, because no, of course Loki wouldn't scratch his eyes out and eat them for breakfast. Psh. Loki's a sweetheart.

"Is that supposed to seduce me?" He shook his head with a coy grin.

"You called me Anthony." The man's eyes got dark. "Do you even know my name?" He stood, his morning erection all too apparent.

But Loki's eyes were glued to his face, his heart pounding. "I did what?" Anthony. Oh, that really wasn't something he needed to deal with at the moment.

"Yeah. Who's Anthony? Do I look like him?" He held his arms out- like Loki really gives a shit what you look like now, you twat. "You can call me anything you want, baby doll." He grinned sleazily, and Loki's fantasizing about how satisfying it would be to slap the shit out of that pretty face right now.

"And you can get out of my apartment, shitface." He growled, feeling that pretentious contempt he had for others of his race start to kick back into gear. "And no. You don't come near to him." The words vomited from his mouth without his permission.

While it was painfully obvious that he had picked this guy for his brown eyes and somewhat curly brown hair, he didn't hold a candle to Stark. He was big and burly, hulking in comparison to his miniature inventor- also not the type Loki ever went for. He would give Thor a run for his money, and could've crushed Thanos, once upon a time. Loki was tiny in the face of his muscle and hard build. But he didn't back down, he wasn't afraid. He had taken more than his fair share of beatings.

"Now, now. Don't play hard to get. You know you can't resist this." He laughed off the insulting words Loki had thrown at his face. He took a step towards Loki, and Loki saw something in his eyes that 'no' wasn't an answer he was willing to take.

He glared. "I can, and am. Get the fuck out." He pointed a tight hand towards the door, throwing two boots at the man's chest hard. "No, means no." His voice didn't quaver, and he didn't back down in the face of the man who was maybe two steps away from him now.

"I think you're the type for bondage. What about you?" He grinned darkly.

Loki scowled, his fingers finding his phone behind him. He grasped it tightly.

"This is your final warning." Without looking, he dialed Thor's number. And god knows, this was a blow to his pride. But he wasn't- no, he _couldn't_ go through this again. "_Get out_."

* * *

Thor woke up, too early. He threw out a blind hand to grab his phone, his eyes still shut. "Hullo." He murmured, his voice rolling deep and growling in his chest.

"_Get out_." Loki's voice was clear, but sounded far away. And shit, did he sound _pissed._

"Now darling, I think you're being a little unfair. You certainly enjoyed it last night. _Oh, Anthony, Anthony._ I was riding you like there was no tomorrow and you fucking loved it." Thor cringed at the words, from another voice in the room.

Why would...

_Oh._

He jumped up, his ear still to the phone, yanking on pants and pulling a t-shirt over his head. "Thor? What are you doing?" Jane's sleepy voice combated the two on the phone, grabbing his attention in a vice. He rushed to give her a kiss on the forehead.

"Loki needs me." It was all he needed to say. She knew that there was one person in the world he loved as fully as he loved her, and that was his little brother. His little brother that was in a precarious situation and Thor would not let him get raped again. Not while he was still breathing.

For once, Thor was going to do the right thing, he was going to save his brother from getting hurt one more time. And as he listened to his little brother rebuff the man, his grammar going up in flames the minute he was touched, turning into a cornered wolf- he couldn't help but remember all the things he had allowed to hurt Loki. Even he himself. And Loki had always been the victim, but never the damsel in distress, always bleeding, but never hurt, always defeated, but still fighting. And Thor had just stood by and let it all happen, watching Loki stay strong and proud and irascible in the face of the most threatening foe or the most insufferable pain.

It hurt his heart to realize how much Loki had dealt with all on his own.

No more.

Thor swore to himself that Loki would never be all alone again.

* * *

Tony rolled up at the hotel entrance, thanking Happy and telling him it would probably be a while so he should just go get a drink. Happy, of course, arched an eyebrow and said he'd be waiting for him. People didn't know how to chill these days.

He trotted over to the elevator, checking his watch. He was nine minutes late. If he was ten minutes late, Pepper was going to like...skin him alive and use him for a living room rug. And he'd let her because honestly he's put that woman through so much the past few weeks. But it wasn't like she wasn't used to it. Because Howard Stark hadn't exactly been an easy man to deal with- but no one knew that better than Tony.

He looked around, almost falling back on his ass when a big blond ran up to him. "Tony?" Frantic blue eyes latched onto his and big hands grasped his shoulder tightly enough to leave a royal purple bruise there for days. "Are you here to see Loki?" A yelp sounded from the phone he was gripping to his ear.

He took in the man's bedhead, disheveled look and immediately knew something bad had happened. "No. What..wait, he's here? What's wrong, Thor?" He gripped him back, his tone too desperate to hide behind cool indifference and imperial charm.

"I think..." He handed him the phone and bolted into the elevator, Tony following close on his heels.

_"Get the fuck off me!" Loki's voice was unhinged, his grammar crashing and burning in the face of the man holding him down on the table and untangling the sheet from around his kicking legs. He was thrashing, biting, searching for a winning hit that would get the brute off him._

_"Shush, darling, you know you like this. You're gonna be groaning that name for hours." His voice was sinister in Loki's ear and where the fuck was Thor because it was starting to look like he wasn't gonna get out of this on his own._

_"I swear to god, I will castrate you, you ignorant shit!" He yowled, feeling more and more like a trapped animal. God damn you, Thor. Move your ass!_

_A hand contacted his sharp, overly sensitive skin. And when had this gone from warm touches to wake him up to hitting touches that made blood run from his lips and onto the floor a few feet from his slightly dazed gaze. "Mmf." He whimpered when harsh hands hauled him up into a rough, biting kiss that exacerbated the pain in his split lip. He could taste the blood flooding his mouth, making him grimace and come a little back to life. He shoved the man back, stumbling till he almost fell over a chair._

_"Mm, you like that, hmm? Fighting, huh? Rough? I can do that, Loki. Is that what Anthony did? Is that how you got off?" He yanked Loki to him, a hand tight in his hair and there's a few memories running with the tears smarting behind Loki's screwed shut eyelids. "Did he mix pain with pleasure? C'mon, baby, tell me, what did Anthony do?"_

Tony's throat is closing up and his heart is beating so hard from the adrenalin and rage running through him. He can't listen to this, but he can't stop either. They have to find him. "Do you know where he is?" His voice is the quiet commination of a man who can hold his shit together in the face of a crisis, but god help whoever came under his rage- everyone and their mother knows Tony can throw a god damn tantrum.

"I have an idea." Thor's face was grim, but his balled-up fists were shaking. Tony hoped he had no mercy on this nasty motherfucker.

Tony's really close to homicidal.

In case you couldn't tell.

_"No. No." He shook his head, his hair going flying when another hard fist hit his jaw. He slammed against the wall, catching himself with his hands so he didn't hit face-first. His shoulders jolted with the impact that shuddered up his arms. His vision was spinning. "Fuck you." He growled, blood turning his voice wet and spitting. Crimson was running down his chin and dripping onto his bare chest._

_He struggled, being pulled back against a naked body. Something pushed against his ass, making him go rigid. "Don't make me really hurt you, boy." And that wasn't foreplay, or kink, or sexual at all. The man was telling him he would regret it if he didn't comply._

_"I do what I want." He snapped, and oops, he's just been shoved back into those teenage years when rape was an every day occurrence with Thane and his misanthropy was at it's height and really, being a smartass was one of the few talents he had any confidence in whatsoever._

_His arm was brought back sharply behind his back, making him wince and arch his back. "No, Loki. You do what I want." His lips brushed Loki's ear. "You're my bitch now. Anthony can go to hell." His voice was a nasty, base sound to Loki, making him scowl- despite the way it pulled his gushing lip.  
_

Tony and Thor found the door, the big man shouldering through it without a problem. Loki was pinned facing a wall, his arm behind his back and a big, muscled muddy-haired man talking in his ear. "You first." Tony growled- replying to the comment that had been unwittingly directed at him.

Thor let out a growl, rushing the man and tackling him to the floor while Tony ran to Loki. He dragged a sheet around the shivering man, hushing him and taking a quick inventory of his physical wounds. His lip was bleeding like a stuck pig, running down his jaw and staining his teeth a red, gooey color. "Hey, hey, baby? It's okay, now. You're safe." Thor had the other man unconscious and was dialing the police.

"Anthony?" Loki's eyes met his, and Tony could see the wet, glistening tears building up. "I'm sorry." He sounded small, hurt, dazed.

"Shh. You didn't do anything wrong, sweetheart." He let the young man wrap his arms around his neck. The touch felt like heaven, and it hurt like hell not to take advantage of how open and vulnerable Loki was. That would ruin any chance of Loki ever trusting him again.

There was something innately fragile in the young man that slowly curled up in his lap, tears starting to fall and paint Tony's skin a shade of Loki's pain. It scared him, how easy it would be to break the bruised, raven-haired, green-eyed young man. Loki had always seemed unbreakable, before they met- when he had just been a vision of dark sensuality and beauty and something Tony couldn't seem to get off his mind- an impregnable, irascible misanthrope with the ability to cut through bone with that sharp, witty tongue. He had fallen in love, first, with the idea of this hard, embittered, sour-sweet beauty, finding him irresistible and enigmatic. But it hadn't taken him long to see Loki shattered by a hand harder than crystallized carbon, turning Loki into a bunch of tiny pieces that would take decades to put back together.

And now he was seeing it again, looking up at Thor helplessly as the blond sat on the bed and stared almost vacantly at his little brother crying quietly against Tony's forearm. He had curled into a ball, clutching Tony's arm to his chest and burying his face in the crook of Tony's elbow. All he could do was stroke inky curls anxiously and curse his inability to fix Loki and Loki's broken life.

Why is the world so cruel?

* * *

Loki woke up slowly, surrounded by warm sheets and the smell of cinnamon and car grease plush in the air. The sheets were a dark red, and the bed was huge and warm and as soft as cloud. He relaxed against it, groaning at the pull in his muscles and the throbbing ache in his jaw and the twinge in his lips. His tooth felt broken, but was whole when he ran his tongue across it. He tongued his lip, tasting old metal, stale and rusty on his tastebuds. Ew.

He could hear voices, probably right outside the door, which he could see only by a thin strip of light seeping under the edge of the door- a brightness in the pitch dark room. The voice of one was Thor, and the other...he had his theories. But it wasn't possible. It was just a silly hope and something he had made up in the tragic shock of the moment. Stark hadn't been there.

How preposterous.

The door opened a crack, and someone peeked in. "Need anything?" The voice was deep and dark, like bittersweet chocolate for Loki's soul. "Water? Tylenol?" Oh, the memories that were plummeting him.

_"Jesus, you know how to party, boy." Tony laughed, looking over at the barbaric mass of curls that was currently groaning beside him. He ran a finger up a sharp backbone, too prominent to ever be considered healthy._

_"Shut up. Your voice hurts me." A tortured whisper that was barely audible was all Loki seemed to be able to eek out except the occasional groan or whine._

_Tony took in the pale teenager, all white skin and dark hair and such a perfect amalgamation of forest green and ruby red and diamond white and smudged-coal black. He was perfect. The moon shining in Tony's midnight skies. Oh, Tony wanted him, all of him, for the rest of his life. He wanted Loki right here, in his bed, every day for the rest of their eternity. If he could just hold him close and hear his voice and know what he did day-in and day-out, he would be happy. There was nothing more he needed in life but this crazy, damaged little being that was laying so close and so cool beside him. He was like winter in the summer, and Tony was his heater in the coldness that got under your skin and made you beat a hasty retreat back under the blankets you had just abandoned. School could wait._

_"Water? Tylenol?" He asked, in a soft sing-song voice that made Loki purr._

Loki gave the same response he had all those years ago. "You."

* * *

Loki was wearing Tony's pajamas. That much he had noticed, but when Anthony silently slipped into the room and carefully walked closer to the bed, he realized that he was otherwise exposed. A little tattoo sliding up and down his side seemed to have caught Stark's hawk eyes, drawing their attention under his furrowed brow. "Come here." Loki beckoned him closer, wanting that warmth wrapped around his aching, stiff, tight muscles desperately.

Stark walked to the edge of the bed, looking down at the floor with his hands in his pockets. Loki had never seen him look like such a shy schoolboy before. Was that the effect he had on him? Was he so different from the women who dripped off his arm and whom he flirted with shamelessly. "What's wrong, Lo-Lo?" He had slid back into the habit of calling Loki by his pet name. A cutting, painful smile twitched across his face, immediately replaced by his hand touching the slid down his lip thanks to his sharp, canine teeth.

"I'm..." He searched for the right word. Scared? Most definitely. Needy? Oh yes. Apologetic? That too. Cold? He was arctic. "I need you." He murmured, reaching out and taking Anthony's hand.

Another calloused hand came up to trace his forearm, marking the scars that had marred Loki's skin with his warm, branding touch. Loki shivered. "You're shivering. I'll-"

"No. I don't want a blanket." Stark raised an eyebrow. "You." He repeated the singular word, tugging the man's hand and coercing him into the bed.

Stark's chocolate tinted irises peered into his through the darkness. The lines in his face that had just started appearing when they were together, had grown more defined and deeper in the years separating them. They denoted the worry and fake smiles and drunken laughter and heartfelt misery of those years for Loki, like a footnotes version of the story of Stark's life.

"I won't break if you touch me, Anthony." He whispered, still holding the scarred, burned, hard-skinned, rough hand of the man he still loved- if he was being honest with himself. "You can get closer." He smiled softly at Stark, small enough to keep his lip from pulling too much.

Arms wrapped around him- thanks to Anthony finally getting the fucking clue. Heat enveloped Loki, making him close his eyes and wrap his arms around Anthony's neck as he was pulled over to rest on the man's chest and listen to his strong, powerful heartbeat beneath the painful buzz of the arc reactor.

"I missed you."

* * *

A/N:** A list of things accomplished by this chapter:**

**Oh, it's empty. Oops. Oh well. POINTLESS CHAPTERS. **

**Review maybe?**

**It's kind of as annoying as Call Me Maybe, only...catchier? Yes? No? **

**So, I don't know how often or far apart the next few chapters will be. Heh. Life is hectic. **

**I LOVE ALL YOU BEAUTIFULS, though, so, don't forget that. Someone loves you (MEEEE), always and all the time. Mmk? Don't forget. This is important.**

**Have a great rest of the week, and weekend. **

**~xoxox, Rayn.**


	4. Chapter 4- Catch Hell Blues

A/N: **So, so, sorry for the long delay in updating. I have recently moved and it's been pretty hectic around here. I do hope this is up to par, but I haven't read through it and I'm just too exhausted to care. XD. Any misspellings or incorrect grammar you can blame on my gypsy lifestyle. However, I'm BAAACK.**

**Do enjoy, my lovelies. **

**The song is Catch Hell Blues by The White Stripes. (KICKASS song.)**

**I LOVE YOU ALL, and hope you enjoyyyyy.**

**P.S. Please review? Please?**

* * *

Loki paced in front of a wall of glass, a view that looked over an expanse of glittering metal and glass, cool air conditioning blowing powerfully on him. All around him, he was surrounded by luxury and a certain bachelor-suave style that just didn't fit the man that lived in it day-in, day-out. But that only made sense. Anthony Stark hadn't chosen the decor, he hadn't picked out the bright red bucket chairs or the glaring white leather couch. Pepper Potts, the infallible secretary, had. He wondered if she still hated his guts, if she saw him right now, would she threaten to stick a knife through his guts? Would he laugh in her face, or throw back some equally horrifying, grammatically-brilliant sentence that would make anyone else cringe. But Ms. Potts was not a woman to be trifled with. She was staunch, loyal, and she loved his- yes, _his-_ genius engineer.

"Sleeping Beauty awakes." A cheerful, deep voice sang out behind him. He spun, looking into molten caramel eyes. "Look at you. Damn." Stark shook his head, a soft smile playing across his lips, turning him into a beautifully amorous vision of sharp ruby lips, charming brown eyes, and stone hard skin. "I haven't seen you with bed-head in...over a decade." He laughed, shaking his head.

"Doesn't seem that long, does it?" It wasn't true, every day had seemed like a lifetime. Every single day had seemed like an eternity while Anthony was so far away, so far out of reach. It was like the ocean would never end, like the flight here turned him into an old, hoar-headed man. And maybe it had, inside. Maybe he had died a thousand deaths since he last saw Anthony Stark.

Stark looked down, shoving his hands into his pockets and leaning back on his expensive and futuristic couch. "It seems like an eternity." His voice was soft, deep in his chest.

Loki stared at him, shocked. So it wasn't just him, so, this once, it wasn't unrequited. The pining in his soul was shared, he was wanted. Somehow, it almost hurt. It hurt because all this time, they should've been together, sharing their lives with each other. Instead, they had been held apart by the people between them, the people they had entrusted with their happiness and their futures. Those people had failed them. But people were not infallible, people were little mistakes hidden within shining virtues.

It was a fool's game, to trust another human being.

"Did you...I mean, have you had any...y'know, never mind." Stark shook his head, looking away with a deprecating grin. "You've got to be the only person on earth who can make me check my tongue." Muddy irises looked at him like they were looking through his soul.

"What were you going to ask, Anthony? It's not like there are any boundaries. It isn't like there's any feelings between us to be hurt." It was a test, because Loki was full of proofs and checks, boundaries that had to be passed before one could enter- or _reenter-_ his life.

Stark got a hurt look in his eyes. "You wound me. I bare my soul, but there's nothing between us? Please, darling, tell me how you really feel." He rolled his jaw-dropping eyes and walked to the bar that graced the right wall. "Want a drink?" He poured himself a scotch. Loki watched him with hawk eyes, taking in every tick, every involuntary movement that oozed through the cracks in his walls. Walls that, once upon a time, he had tried to bring crumbling down. But Anthony Stark was a castle within a fortress.

"No, thank you." He ran a hand through his messy hair. God damn bed head. "I wasn't trying to...'wound' you." Loki shrugged. He didn't give an explanation, he didn't have to. This wasn't a relationship, and he didn't owe Stark a thing.

"Then what were you trying to do, exactly? Was that a test? Did I pass?" He gave Loki a million dollar smile. Behind it, there was something far less brilliant and cheerful, lurking in the brown of his eyes and the worry lines gracing his forehead.

"You might, if you were to answer me." Loki shrugged, giving nonchalance a run for it's money, because god damn he was _embodying_ that word.

"I was going to ask if you had a boyfriend or something." Anthony looked down, into his glass. The brown liquid swirled with a flick of his wrist.

Loki cocked an eyebrow. "Oh, you are shameless, aren't you, Mr. Stark." He barked a laugh, shaking his head. "No, Anthony. But you already know that, don't you? I'm sure if you got Clint drunk enough, he'd tell you anything you wanted to know. " A guilty smile confirmed his suspicions. God damn it, Clint.

"Well, I wanted to hear it from you. Clint gets a little shady when he's drunk. Sometimes, I wonder if he just tells me things to get in my pants." He winked at Loki. A smile crossed both their faces, remembering times when Clint's closeted bisexuality had come barreling out of Narnia to accost some handsome man- usually Thor or Anthony; once, he had even tried to kiss Loki before Anthony grabbed him and took him out for some 'fresh air'. "I...I mean, I had to know. I wanted to make sure you were okay." Anthony shrugged, looking down again while the smile fell from his face.

Loki crossed his arms over his chest. He knew his body language was defensive, protective, cutting him off from the emotion sparking in the room. But Loki hadn't changed much since he had last seen Stark over ten years ago. He was still misanthropic, leaning towards sociopathic, and tending to be more or less bitchy and irascible in emotional situations. Stark got charming and snarky, Loki got pissy and numb. Everyone has their coping mechanisms, spend enough time with someone and you'll know them like the back of your hand. "So, you've been my stalker for the past ten years." He smirked, turning to look out the window. But he could feel Stark's eyes on his back, tracing the sharp cut of his shoulders pointing through Stark's oversized- on Loki, anyways- AC/DC t-shirt. He had always been able to feel his gaze roving over his body, catching on the angular curves and swerves his body made when he walked or threw his hair back over his shoulder.

"And you've been ignoring every mention of me. I guess we haven't really changed much, huh?" He chuckled, and Loki remembered how soft and warm his breath was on Loki's skin. Once upon a time, they had been that close, that intimate. Once upon a time, Loki had been so close, he could feel his heart beat and his pulse jumping hard and strong under his tanned skin.

Loki shrugged. "People never change, doll." He gazed out across the shimmering horizon. It was a beautiful day, especially for the midst of a New York winter- which was always windy, grey, and relentlessly chilling. "The only thing that changes is our vices get worse, and our virtues disappear. Innocence goes far, far away." God, he sounded jaded and cynical. Shouldn't Stark have been spouting depressing things about how sinful and carnal the world was? Wasn't it Stark living it up and playing the genius playboy with a thing for blondes with big racks? Since when had Loki turned into this world-wise, hardcore young man that didn't believe in happiness or love or anything pure and innocent?

"God damn, Loki. What's happened to you?" That voice was a lot closer than Loki had been expecting. He turned to look into caramel eyes that weren't five inches away from him.

* * *

About ten years of spotty information and a very drunken Clint hadn't really told Tony much about Loki or his life. He was craving answers, wanting to know everything Loki had been through, how he had gotten those scars twisting around his mouth, what had happened to make him mark up his arms- and Tony prays to god it wasn't he who caused them.

Right now, with those brilliant, fiery, fierce emerald eyes blazing on his skin, it was like he was getting addicted all over again. Loki's never been more beautiful, more tempting. He's wearing Tony's clothes- like he used to long ago, stealing his clothes (never to be seen by Tony again thanks to Loki's penchant for 'losing' things)- his hair a right mess, his lips still bright red from a beating thanks to a very big would-be rapist. Somehow, he was a damaged kind of beautiful.

"What do you mean?" He crossed pale white arms over his chest, covering his heart, his ribs, all those places that had been hurt so many times. "I've been just fabulous, Anthony." Because when Loki was cornered, like he was now, he put up the defense, reinforced his walls, made sure that no one could see past his perfectly constructed, ice-cold front. But Tony saw through it, he always had.

Once upon a time- when life was beautiful and the only thing killing them was Tony's reckless penchant for breaking expensive shit and pissing his dad off, and Loki's only vice was a cigarette every now and again (because really, two packs a day between the two of them surely wasn't that much)- Tony had looked at Loki and seen past the 'Ice King' persona and the snarky, misanthropic walls to see something ethereally beautiful and strikingly bleak, but oh so hopeful for the future. He had seen a romantic man who wanted to be loved and cared for, who truly loved his family, who wanted a boyfriend who wouldn't abuse and use him. He had seen the true Loki that no one else had ever even caught a glimpse of. That's what people mean, right? When they say 'Don't judge a book by it's cover'? To see past the front that puts everyone off, that's constructed purely so people wont ask too many searching questions, so that no one gets so close to the core of you that they can destroy you with a few simple words?

Loki had been hurt too much, struck down too many times, stabbed in the back one time too many. But Tony saw past the battle scars and the angry-at-the-world glare that Loki gave everyone. And it had been the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life. It had gotten him the love of his life, his soulmate, his Loki. But he had ruined it, he had been one of the people to hurt, strike down, and stab Loki in the back. For the past decade, he had hated himself for it.

Now he was getting a second chance.

He wouldn't fuck it up this time.

"No, you're not. You're certainly not, Loki Laufeyson." He took another step, making Loki back up apprehensively. Oh, he had forgotten how skittish his love could be, how afraid of affection he was. But Tony wasn't scared away. "I can see it. And I'm not talking about your scars." He could see Loki frowning at him, shaking his head and backing away some more- but Tony followed him, a step for a step. "I'm talking about that look in your eyes, the way you get defensive every time I say anything about Thor or us. And I'm not scared of you, Loki. I'm not scared of your little facade. I can see past the mirage, I realize that the angry, bitter person you pretend to be...is just hiding who you really are." He laughed. "Hell, Loki, I practically invented that routine. 'Oh, I'm fine. I'm just peachy. I'm screaming inside.'" He took one of Loki's hands, kneeling in front of him. Loki rolled his eyes, and Tony could almost see the rancorous remark forming behind Loki's pretty lips. "I _see_ you. I see everything." He murmured, his voice low and rumbling- that tone he hadn't used in ten years because it was reserved for Loki, and Loki alone.

Loki pulled his hand away. The acrimony and antipathy was back, in full force. "Don't you dare. You don't get to see me, you don't get to come back into my life and act like you know all about me. You don't know what I've been through, you don't know how much it hurt me to watch you throw me away like I was the dirt on your shoes. You don't know shit, Anthony. So don't pretend like you do." The words burned, striking deep. Maybe because it was true, or maybe because for once, Tony had tried to care about someone more than himself. But as every time when Tony tried to be humane and compassionate, it came back to bite him in the ass.

"Look, Loki, I...I care. Okay? That's it. I just want you to be okay. I still love you!" It wasn't really what he had planned to say. It wasn't really the best idea. Because something like that would make Loki shut up like a clam. "I mean..." He shook his head, looking away and sitting back on his haunches. "I don't mean anything. It...I'm sorry." It was lame and insincere, since it wasn't true. He wasn't sorry, he had nothing to apologize- so why was guilt roiling up in him like heartburn?

Loki laughed, dark and bitter and filled to the brim with years upon years of pain. "Of course you don't, Stark. It would just be too much to ask of you to have a honest moment, wouldn't it?" He turned away, looking back out the window. "I have to go, Stark. This...this was a bad idea from the outset." He moved to go change- out of Tony's clothes, and out of Tony's life.

* * *

"Look, just feed her and...Jane!" Thor shook his head, running his hand back through his hair. "Loki, I honestly know nothing to tell you. Jane's gonna have to give you directions." He watched Loki and Prussia dancing back and forth.

It was interesting to see his little girl in his little brother's arms, twirling around with one hand engulfed in her uncle's long fingers and the other tangled in his inky black ponytail. They were an odd match, the four year old who didn't even reach the man's waist, and the towering, slender thirty year old who was usually the vision of bitterness and hatred. The music playing in the background was some new age shit that Thor had never heard before, but the smile on his little girl's face...it was worth all of Loki's quirky music and irascibility. "Thor, this isn't the first time I've babysat before. I feed her, bathe her, and put her in bed. Easy. No candy, no soft drinks, no junk food. Keep an eye on her, don't have...any questionable friends over, don't drink. Come on. I'm a thirty year old man, not a teenage girl with her head in the clouds." He smirked at Thor, green eyes twinkling as he swayed back and forth with Prussia's legs dangling around his waist.

"He seems to have it all under control, Thor." Jane came into the room, a vision in red. She was pulling a dark coat around her, coming up to straighten his tie. "You look handsome." Her smile was that same one she had given him the first time they had met, and Thor found he was even more in love with her then he had been then.

"Wow, Jane. You look stunning." Loki and Prussia had stopped dancing to stare at his wife with open-mouths. It was enough to daze Thor. Between his dazzling wife and the dancing niece and her graceful uncle, let's just say Thor hasn't seen so much beauty around him in a long time.

If only life were always this perfect.

"What they said." He smiled down at his gorgeous bride. "Are you ready, my love?" He held out his arm for her to take with one slender, dainty hand.

She batted her eyelashes, "I am always ready for you, my sweet." She teased.

Loki snorted and Prussia hid her face in his hair. "Get a room, will you." He shook his head. "Have fun. Prussia is in very capable hands, _Thor."_ He smirked, twirling Prussia around the room.

Thor took one last long look at them before Jane tugging on his hand pulled him away. "She'll have fun with him. You know how she is about him. He's the love of her life, Thor. Your brother has charmed our daughter beyond repair." She grinned at him, her glittering eyes taking one last glance at them. "They'll be fine. Let's go."

They were out the door and he was sitting in the back seat of their car with her before he could think to change his mind. She was a whirlwind that made his head spin.

He wouldn't have had it any other way.

* * *

"So, my lovely Pru, what shall we do tonight? Movie? Cartoons?" He lay on his stomach on the floor, lazily flipping channels on the TV while his niece sat on his back and braided his hair messily.

She 'hmm'ed, brushing her fingers through the knots she had created thoughtfully. "Ice cream!" She decided, bouncing once- enough to make his back crack hard. Oh. That hurt.

He laughed, shaking his hands and pulling his hair threw her fingers further. "I don't think your mum would appreciate that, my lovely." He teased, giggling when she leaned over his head to look at him upside down. Gods, those eyes were a blast from the past. Puppy dog eyes she could only have inherited from his big brother.

"Please?" She begged, whining like a kicked puppy.

Like he ever had a chance against those eyes.

"Fine. Fine. We'll walk down. But under one condition!" He halted her before she exploded, sitting up to watch her hopping back and forth from one foot to the next in excitation. "You have to promise not to leave my side. Not for one second." He kept a stern expression on his face despite the smile dying to break through.

"Okay!" She jumped up and down, clapping her hands, her long blonde hair bouncing on her shoulders.

"Alright, let's go. Get your coat and your galoshes." He smirked as she ran to get the attire out of her room.

* * *

Loki watched her lick chocolate ice cream off an ice cream cone in ice cream store. They were the only customers- not surprising since it was at least thirty degrees outside, but it seemed Prussia had gotten a little bit of her uncle's love for winter. She was adorable, with a smudge of chocolate on her nose and around her mouth. "Uncle Lowy?" She looked up at him with sapphire eyes.

"Yes, darling?" He swallowed a spoonful of caramel-covered vanilla ice cream. It was sugary enough to last him the next six months.

She looked at him thoughtfully. "What happened to your mouth?" Her voice was innocent and filled with the wonder only a child could attain.

He froze, mouth open and spoon suspended mid-air. Well, damn. How was he supposed to explain that. "Uh. Well, I got in a fight, love." He smiled, pretending like that wasn't the biggest lie he had told in his entire life. And her big, naive eyes said she bought every word of it. "Let this be a lesson to you, my sweet. Don't ever get in a fight you can avoid." He smirked and leaned over to wipe a napkin all over her messy face. He got rewarded by peals of laughter. "It's time to go, you can finish that on the walk home." He took her hand and lifted her out of the chair.

The walked back, her hand swinging his arm back and forth as she skipped along by her side, giggling and telling him all about her first year of school. Her childish chattering was like music to his ears. He had wanted children all his life, and had thought many times of adopting. But he would be patient, he would wait, because he wanted the right time, the right fit, the right moment when he could provide properly for him or her.

Before he could blink, she had shouted and darted through his loose grasp and into the street. "Prussia!" The cry was wrenched from his lung and he was sprinting after her, ignoring the cars honking and the scarf catching in the wind and nearly strangling him. A semi was headed directly for her. "Prussia!" His voice was foreign to his own ears. "No!"

A screech of tires echoed his cry.

* * *

A/N:**CLIFFHANGERSSSS. Stay tuned, folks, and have a fabulous weekend.**

**~xoxox, Rayn**


	5. Chapter 5- All Our Bruised Bodies

A/N: **The chapter title is All Our Bruised Bodies and the Whole Heart Shrinks by La Dispute. It's sad. Um.**

**WARNINGS: Pain. Some graphic themes- blood, a hurt child, grief. Hospitals. **

**So, grab a box of tissues and enjoy my most recent foray into tragedy.**

* * *

Loki paced, sweat pouring down his face and the back of his neck. It had happened so fast. Every thought was a whirlwind in his mind, making the room spin and the faces blur as they passed him. There was so much blood. Screaming tires, Prussia screaming, him screaming. People had crowded around them and the traffic had come to a standstill. And then tears. His voice repeating a mantra he hadn't meant to say.

* * *

_She was gone in a flash, darting through the streets towards a kitten in the middle of the road, staring at the headlights like a scared deer. Prussia was gone, out of his hands, in the direct path of a now-screeching to a stop semi. He was running. "Prussia! No!" The words had come out choked, and she hadn't heard them. The scarf around his neck was strangling him as he took off after her._

_But he was too late. _

_A taxi caught him in the legs, throwing him several feet to a mind-numbing, pain-numbing, spinning skid against the concrete. He could feel the holes dug into his knees as he climbed back up- hazy and stunned. Prussia. He had to get to her. He could feel his staggering legs beneath him, the concussion starting in the back of his head, warm blood running down the vertebrae in his neck. _

_Loki hit his knees beside her, tears running down his face. "God, no. No. No. No." She was crying, screaming, sobbing. "No. No. No. No." It was all that would come out of his mouth, but he didn't even hear it. She was bleeding, her leg covered in blood. His hands were shaking when he touched her. "No. No. God, no. No." People were crowding them. He couldn't think. He couldn't breathe. Pain was overtaking his body, his eyes wanted to shut. An ambulance sounded in the background._

_No. _

_This wasn't happening. _

_It was just a nightmare._

_He was going to wake up in a second._

_He would laugh at this, in just a minute._

_Just one more minute and it'd all be over._

_EMTs swarmed around him, someone ran arms under his shoulders, picking up his limp form. He was weeping, sobbing into his scraped and burning hands. "No. No. No. No." Someone was talking, was it him? Was he saying something? No. It was a different voice, a woman, telling him he was bleeding, asking if he needed help. "No. No. No."_

_The world was spinning. Prussia was being put on a stretcher. She wasn't crying anymore. Was she breathing? What was happening? Was this reality? Loki wanted to jump off a skyscraper._

_"No. No. No."_

* * *

Thor ran into the Emergency Room. Loki was pacing, crying, sweating, bleeding. His little brother was covered in blood. Dark crimson ran down his back, bleeding into the waist of his jeans and matting his already pitch-black hair. A scarf hung from his limp fingers. His eyes were already swollen from crying, tears which still ran down his carmine-stained face. "Loki!" Haunted green eyes flew to meet his.

"Thor." A man who had never failed to have a deep, growling voice- something almost sinister hiding behind sparkling eyes and a chain smoker's snarl- was now small and weak. "I'm so sorry. I don't know what happened. I'm so sorry." A sob choked the slender man, and red-tainted hands flew to hide his face.

Thor had never seen him look like this. He could swear he saw the fissure running up into his chest and across his heart. His knees were stained a dark, dangerous red that was dripping from his legs and onto the floor. It had dropped back and forth across the pristine tile, a dark commemoration of Loki's nervous back-and-forth, to-and-fro trail.

"Where is she?" Jane was clinging to him, tears falling against his shoulder. Loki looked like death.

"The operating room. I...They made me stay out here." Emerald eyes looked lost, gazing at Thor blankly. "I'm so sorry." He had never heard those words come out of that ruby mouth so often. Or so sincerely.

"I know. Just...Quit saying that." It made Thor feel like Prussia was dead...

His little girl was on the brink.

* * *

Tony glared at the men across the table, glancing at his phone every so often. It had been forever since Loki had walked out, almost twenty-four hours. An international business meeting wasn't that important.

He pulled up the news, scrolling across the different articles until 'Breaking News! Senator's daughter in the ER after tragic accident!' caught his eye. Not...

No.

Nonononononono.

There was a flash of black hair caught in an EMT's arms, a small form on a stretcher. Thor's little girl, Loki's crying, shaken form. He was out of the room in a flash, dialing a number he already knew by heart. "Pick up, god damn it!" He ran down the stairs, leaping down four to get to the landing and sprinting towards the car in the garage.

He dialed again, it went immediately to voicemail. His mind flew into a maelstrom of terrible thoughts. What if Loki was injured? What if Prussia didn't make it? What if...what if...what if?

Pepper's name came up bold and angry against his phone. Damn. Running out of an important meeting without a word probably wasn't the worst thing he had ever done, but it certainly wasn't going to put him in Pepper's good graces, especially when she found out that his naught behavior concerned Loki. "Hey, Potts. Look, it's an emergency. I gotta go." He had to keep the line free, if Loki called, he was going to answer.

"Anthony Stark!" Tony's mind flashed back, to all those years he had heard that name purred off a silver tongue. "You just left an extremely important international conference, and your excuse is 'an emergency'?" Wow, she sounded pissed.

Tony's tires shrieked a protest as he swung through traffic, eyes darting back and forth. He hadn't been so focused in years. "Yeah. Look, it's...just look at the news and you'll understand. Gotta go." He hung up without another word, coming to a screaming halt in a parking space at the hospital. The parking was shoddy, crooked, but he didn't care.

He was racing, bursting into the Emergency Room waiting area like a bat out of hell. Loki was sobbing, bloody, broken. The blood that he seemed to be covered in wasn't dry, it was coming out of him. The back of his head, his hands, his knees, a scrape on his shoulder- the fabric was torn off, pooling at his elbow- and a dark gash from his ribs to his hips. "Loki!" He ran up, Thor's dazed eyes zeroing in on him with what almost looked like relief.

Loki spun, verdant eyes burning like fire and gleaming with a sheen of tears as immense as the ocean. "Stark?" He looked confused. "What are you doing here?" Tony was fairly sure nothing in the world would terrify him as much as the tone of his former lover did now.

"It doesn't matter. I'm just here." The words fell from his mouth without thought, and seemed to break a levee that had been holding Loki upright, keeping the tears back, keeping him standing. He fell into Tony's arms, spent and coming undone at every seam he had. "It's okay." He threw a glance at Thor, who nodded.

A long, lank, limp young man was gathered into Tony's unwavering, unyielding arms, baring him up and holding him tight against a beating chest and a whirring device. "It's alright." He murmured, hefting Loki up and completely into his arms, wet knees dangling across one arm, bleeding shoulders slipping into the hook of his other. "I've got you now." It scared him how beat up Loki looked, how hard he was shaking and shivering. "I've got you. It's okay." One long arm wrapped around his neck, a face buried into his neck, tears falling fast and slick against his collarbone.

"I'm here now."

Did that mean anything anymore?

Or was it an empty comfort?

* * *

Loki felt a warm styrofoam cup pushed into his hands, and calloused fingers holding his fingers around it. "Babe. Look at me." The words sounded muffled, like they were miles away. He looked into warm caramel eyes that held a sea of concern and worry in them. "I need you to drink this. It'll help, okay?" He followed the forms those pink lips made, barely registering the words they spoke.

He nodded once.

The doctor had come out of the operating room only once, covered in blood. Prussia's blood. Jane was curled against one of his shoulders- the one that was still covered by fabric instead of his blood. Judging by her breathing, she was caught in a fitful sleep. The doctor had said that they would have to remove her right leg. Thor had stepped back like someone had hit him. After that, Loki had checked out.

"Hey, hey, stay with me, princess." Stark's voice was as warm as liquid chocolate. "Drink." He guided Loki's hands to his lips, put the rim of the cup against the seam of his mouth. Loki sipped, almost choking. "It's alright. Breathe." A hand rubbed his clean side. "C'mon, darling. Come back to me." The pint-sized billionaire was leaning between his knees, eyes glued to him.

"I'm sorry." It was the only thing he could think to say. Sapphire eyes looked over at him.

"Loki, it's not your fault." Thor's rumbling voice, filled to the brim with pain, barely reached his eardrum. But it wasn't true. It was his fault. If he had been watching her more carefully, if he had been holding her tighter, if he had reacted faster...she would be okay. She wouldn't be losing her right leg. She wouldn't be on that operating table. It should have been him. It should have been him fighting hand-to-hand with death.

What if she didn't make it out of that room?

His head throbbed. His knees throbbed. His side and hip throbbed. His shoulder throbbed. His palms throbbed. "Yes, it is." He was whispering, sounding hoarse and rough.

Thor shook his head, dropping his face into his wide hands. "Stop, Loki. It was an accident." He sounded strangled, like he was trying not to cry. Loki's heart stuttered in his chest.

He felt like a plague. He had cost Prussia her leg, and made her fight for her life on a sterile table in a sterile room surrounded by men and women she didn't know. She was just a little girl. And he had caused her to go through hell. He would trade places with her in the blink of an eye. He would have given his life for her.

* * *

There was something about waking up with his face buried in inky tresses that brought back a strange sense of euphoria and fear to Tony's heart. Fear because he knew when this raven-headed vision awoke, his world would be shattered all over again- because Tony knows something about living a nightmare, and he knew that waking up and realizing it wasn't over...well, it wasn't an easy thing to deal with. He also knew that, the moment Loki realized that it wasn't just a really terrible dream, he would break like an expensive vase against tile flooring. Because deep within Loki, his family was one of the most important things in his life. Tony had realized that the moment he let Thor back into his life after nearly beating him to death.

And now, now it would be up to Tony all over again. Because in this great, wide world, neither of them had ever found anyone else equipped with what it took to glue all of their scattered pieces back together. All they had was each other- no matter how much they liked it...or how much they hated it, in Loki's case. And it was such a great testimony to how traumatized Loki was, that he had fallen so quickly into Tony's arms. Because from the first moment they had locked eyes again, he had shown a fiery bitterness toward Tony, hating him almost on principal.

It hurt, to know that someone he loved so deeply was so hurt by none other than he himself. Sure, he had tramped all over people for over ten years. He hadn't given a shit about anyone else's feelings. He had used and abused and essentially become a slightly different version of his father. He hated himself for it, but it dulled that aching sting of heartbreak. It made things easier to forget if he was drunk 24/7, it made him capable of living with his regrets if only there was a little bit of misery surrounding him. And somehow, he had made it this far living on the idea that no one else meant anything to him. That nowhere was there a soul on this earth that he truly cared about. It had given him the freedom to destroy himself without worrying how his inner destruction would affect the rest of his tiny world.

But no man is an island.

Tony had realized this that night after Loki charged out of the room and ran to his brother's home, the last time he had seen the pretty young man before the past few weeks. And try as he might, there were some people stubborn enough to get jugular-deep in his shit. Pepper Potts. Bruce Banner. Obadiah Stane- and oh the lies he had told himself about the traitorous 'friend'. And Loki Laufeyson- before Tony had unceremoniously ended all contact between them with a few tragic sentences. But it was devastatingly painful to watch as these people suffered with you, as they saw you destroy every little piece of your soul with burning whiskey and insidious pills and casual sex. It was something Tony wouldn't wish on even his worst enemy. (Okay, if he's being honest, he'd _totally_ wish it on Justin Hammer.)

Loki stirred, his luscious black hair brushing softly against Tony's unshaven face. Tony straightened, disconnecting with the soothing coolness of Loki's back and neck, which he had somehow leaned against in his sleep. He rubbed a hand over his face, feeling his five o'clock shadow and how messy and tangled his short hair was- falling in his eyes, he really needed a god damn haircut.

Thor was snoozing against Jane's shoulder as she scrolled listlessly through something on her phone- pictures, Tony was guessing, judging by the sheen of tears crawling across her pretty, sleep-deprived eyes. She was wearing a gorgeous, rumpled red dress. Two black coats lay across the chair beside her, and Thor's top few buttons were undone. Looking beside him, he saw Loki curled into a ball in the chair, his knees pulled up to his chest. His shirt had ridden up his back, thanks to Tony's mid-sleep cuddles, no doubt. His hair was a bloody mess, and there was a smudge of dark crimson against his nose. His hands were stained red and marred by deep, dirty cuts. He must've fallen against the road at some point. He had refused any medical attention.

The doctor came through swinging doors, making Jane start which woke Thor from his light sleep. Tony watched them with hawk eyes. The scrub-clothed man was smiling- that sympathetic, compassionate smile which all doctors eventually learned to wear all the time- and nodding. It seemed she had come through the surgery well. Silently, Tony let out a relieved sigh. He barely heard the being beside him whimper in his sleep. Tony's eyes settled on him, concern eating away at his heart- or what little of it he had left.

"Tony," Thor came up, running an exhausted hand through disheveled blond hair. "We're going back to Prussia's room. She's come through the surgery. The doctor says she should wake up fairly soon." He smiled weakly, looking almost on the verge of tears. "Loki...I, can I ask you to take care of him? I mean, I know you two aren't on the best of terms. But, I trust no one else with him right now." Thor shrugged sheepishly.

Tony nodded immediately, standing to put a hand on the taller man's shoulder. "Don't worry about a thing, Thor. I'll take him back to my place, make sure he's okay. He'll be okay, I promise." He smiled with far more confidence than he felt, because it was going to be a damned long road to travel before Loki was anywhere nearing okay.

Thor unexpectedly pulled him into a loose hug. "Thank you, Tony." And within those three words were apologies. Apologies for keeping Tony and his little brother apart. For nearly murdering him a few weeks ago when Tony kissed Loki. For making them all miserable all those years ago when Loki's family had been akin to a thing immersed in the fiery lakes of Hades.

"Any time, Thor. You know my number if you need me or Loki." He smiled, slapping him on the back sympathetically and watching him and his wife disappear down white-washed hallways.

Then he looked down at Loki and sighed.

This wasn't going to be easy.

* * *

Loki woke up in a strange bed, in a strange room, with a strange- but all too familiar- form sitting slumped and sleeping in a chair in the corner. He sighed and rolled onto his back, slinging an arm across his face. The aroma of broken flesh and metallic blood and tragedy filled his nose, reminding him of everything he wanted to forget. Prussia. He cringed, feeling pain seep into every particle of his body, singeing his cells and licking fiery fissures into his heart.

Across the room, the form stirred, growling Loki's name into the dream world he was immersed in. It made Loki sit up slowly, his body creaking and cracking in protest. How long had he been sleeping? And when the hell had Stark brought him here? He looked down at his palms, raw and red and covered in dried blood. Come to think of it, the bed was covered in his blood too. As well as Stark's wrinkled shirt and pants. He sighed again, dropping his face into the cradle of his long, scraped up fingers.

"Lo?" The word was slurred sleepily by a groggy, foggy deep voice that brought back far too many memories that Loki just couldn't deal with right now.

He held up a halting hand, "Please. Don't talk right now." He growled, not looking up. He couldn't look into those warm caramel eyes that were floating around behind his eyelids. Stark had haunted him for a decade. But right now, with his sanity teetering on the edge, and his heart shattering into a bunch of tiny, tiny pieces- he just couldn't deal with the ghosts of his past.

Quickly, and without allowing the emotions roiling around in his achingly empty stomach to invade, Loki went through the events of the past however many hours. At some point he had fallen asleep in the hospital waiting room, and Thor must've entrusted his safekeeping with Stark. Damn it, Thor. Although, he really couldn't blame his brother- he had plenty enough to deal with, without Loki having a mental breakdown in the middle of a hospital.

"Thor?" He asked, knowing Stark would immediately realize what he was asking. After a few minutes of silence, he looked up and almost laughed at the hilariously uncertain look on Stark's face. "You can talk. I won't murder you, just yet." Although he was very close to finding the highest building within a mile radius and jumping off the roof.

Let it never be said that Loki doesn't hurt just as much as everyone else.

(And yes, it has been said many, _many_ times.)

"Yeah, he...he wanted me to make sure you were okay, y'know. You look terrifyingly beat up, Loki." There was an almost fearful tone to Stark's voice, like he was worried Loki might keel over any second. "I mean..." Oh, he didn't have to say it. Loki knew well what he had been on the verge of asking.

Loki raised an eyebrow. "What happened? She got away from me, ran into the street." He took a shuddering breath, ignoring how Stark got up and walked to the edge of the bed. "I ran after her. A taxi caught me, throwing me to the ground. I got up, but by that time it was too late. She had been hit by a semi. Her leg was...covered in blood. And, my head was spinning. I..." He bit his lip, drawing blood as a tear slid down his cheek. "I was pulled away when the ambulance got there. And, next thing I knew, they were wheeling her down a white hallway and I was told to stay in the waiting room."

Before he could protest or come up with some cutting, snarky remark, warm arms wrapped around him tightly. He let himself melt into the embrace, slipping weak arms around Stark's neck. As much as he wanted to hate Stark for all he had done all those years ago, and all the words he had said that had hurt and broken him apart piece by piece, right now... he was making up for it. Because in all the world, there was no one else Loki needed. And he did, he needed Anthony like a fish needed water or a heart needed blood or a king needed subjects.

In near exhaustion, he buried his face into that warm neck he had so long dreamed of and longed for, clenching his fingers around Stark's blood-covered shirt, allowing powerful arms to pulling him into Tony's lap. "I won't leave you, Loki. Not again. No matter what." He whispered into Loki's hair, his breath rushing across Loki's neck.

If only Loki believed in promises.

* * *

A/N: **So...yeah. Review, maybe? I think it's shit...but then, that's my default setting. So, tell me what you think, babes. **

**I love you all, and I hope you all have a splendid weekend.**

**And if any of you have anything that you need to talk to someone about, I'm here. Really. I care about you all, because we all go through pain and tragedy and loss. I know how that feels. So please, don't be alone.**

**~xoxox, Rayn.**


	6. Chapter 6- Flaws

A/N: **The chapter title is Flaws by Bastille. I think it accurately sums up the entirety of this chapter. **

**Now...**

**WARNINGS- These are serious warnings. PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU GO ANY FURTHER. I cannot stress this enough. Rough sex (enjoy it, you may never see it again. Sex. A foray into some different kinds of writing...). ****_Somewhat graphic, and extremely triggering content_****. Self-harm. Self-hatred. Mentions of personal trauma (brief mention of child abuse). **

**Please, please, please, don't read this if you'll be triggered. Please.**

* * *

Tony woke up, hazy and bogged down by the last clinging tendrils of sleep. He looked across the bed, at the being curled up close to him, warm breath hitting his neck gently. The man was a vision of shadows and gentle early-morning light. Bright red lips accosted by dark, hollow cheekbones starting at the edge of his mouth, eyes shuttered by pale eyelids and coated with the darkness of raven colored eyes brows and eyelashes. He knew that under all that blanket of sleep and peacefulness, lay troubled gems of emerald. He knew that when those eyes opened, he would see the weight of the world and tragedy in them. He would see something that would twist and rend his heart. The thought pushed a sigh out of his mouth, gently breezing against dark curls that wove around Loki's neck like ripped lace and twisted love.

"You're staring." The red mouth moved, capturing his fascinated attention. It took him a moment to process the words that had been spoken into the serene silence between sleeping and dream worlds, and waking to reality.

"Can't help myself." He smiled, letting the expression echo through his words and bounce around the room.

"You never could." Loki yawned, right up in his face like a kitten, stretching one arm across his chest, right over the light of the arc reactor. The blue had pierced the darkness- thanks to Jarvis having tinted the windows of his bedroom at some point in the night- and with one move, Loki had knocked it out, kicking Tony into pithy midnight. "What time is it?"

"Too early." Tony grumbled.

"It's always too early for you." He murmured, practically purring. Tony's fingers itched to touch, to see him with his fingertips- since Loki had made it impossible for his eyes to do their job. "You can, you know. I don't bite…too hard." He spoke like he had read Tony's mind. But he wasn't ready to lose the fight so easily.

"I can what?" He murmured, his voice subconsciously dropping deeper to that voice he had used when they were younger and things were as confusing as ever, but somehow so much easier. It had been so much easier to get lost in each other and things that wouldn't hurt them- at least, not with the intent to break and bruise.

"You can touch me. Come now, don't be shy, Stark. You never were before." There was a smirk in that dark voice, taunting him with noises he hadn't heard in too long- unless you counted some _fantastic_ dreams that woke him up sweaty and hard.

"Just touch? Are there perimeters this time?" He grinned, falling into the game that they were playing without a thought.

"Aren't there always?" Loki laughed, pulling his arm back and placing his hand over the arc reactor instead. He moved to lean against one elbow, Tony had the feeling he was looking down at him. "The goal is to make me forget. _Everything._ Like…like only you can. And, Anthony…don't be gentle."

Let's just say Tony's a teensy bit aroused.

A _teensy, tiny, itty bitty_ bit.

He growled and rolled over to straddle Loki, pushing him back down on the bed. "How rough do you want me to be?" He caught Loki's wrists, holding them above his head, pushed down into the pillow. His mouth pressed against Loki's pulse, feeling it's erratic, quick beat under his tongue, which licked a strip up to the crook of Loki's sharp jaw.

"You know me so well, you tell me." Loki rasped, his voice dropping to a gravel-pit, ground-glass, grinding-metal sound that made Tony's stomach jump.

"How 'bout I show you?" He purred, digging his teeth into Loki's neck. Subconsciously, his grip on Loki's wrists tightened- it would leave bruises. His mind went into one mode- Make Loki His.

A breathy laugh switched into a gasp when he tightened his jaw and drew warm blood into his mouth, lapping at the metallic taste languidly. He arched his back, bringing his hips into hard connection with Loki's- drawing a gasp from them both- and pushing Loki harder into the bed. "Oh, _fuck."_ He breathed, his lips tinted with Loki's blood when he pushed them against Loki's. Suddenly, Loki had turned into a wanton, lithe being that _wanted_ him. It went from pure hatred and reluctant need to rough sex. It was perhaps the fastest transition he had ever seen.

He bit into his lip before licking the seam of Loki's lips- which, bless god, _opened_ for him- and pushing his tongue between them to trace Loki's entire mouth and mix the blood between their mouths. He gathered both of Loki's wrists into one hand, and ran the other up under Loki's shirt. "God damn you." Loki growled when he ran one short nail across that scar he had seen so long ago. It was still raised and prominent against the man's very-prominent ribcage, every bone apparent under his traveling, searching, devouring touch.

"Ah, ah, Don't be naughty, now." Tony teased, pushing against his hips again and feeling Loki arch beneath him in search of more fiction. "I wouldn't want to have to punish you." He growled, teeth running against Loki's jaw. He nipped at his neck, all the way down to the junction of his throat and collarbone. "You wouldn't want that, now would you?" It was more of a statement than a question. Currently, he was thanking whatever god there was for the more kinky bed partners he had had in the past ten years.

"Fuck you." He gasped, his voice less threatening and more sultry and seductive.

"No, no. The opposite. _I'm_ going to fuck _you."_ Tony snarled, licking up the blood that had started to gather around the earlier bite. Loki responded with a keening moan.

He gathered the man into his arms and whipped him off the bed, his arms under his ass and carrying him off the bed and pushing him against a wall. Loki hit the wall with a grunt, his legs wrapping powerfully around Tony's waist. Their hips slotted together, making Loki rest his head back against the wall breathlessly, and giving Tony clear access to a long, pale white neck that was already dripping blood. He growled- a deep rumble from the depths of his chest- and nipped at his windpipe. Fingers roved across Loki's thighs and ass hungrily. Oh god, he wanted him so fucking bad he couldn't think straight.

Loki's feet hit the back of his legs as he arced against him, bringing their arousals in sharp connection. _"God,_ Tony, enough foreplay." He gasped, squirming when Tony bit down harder than usual, drawing blood immediately. It was a warning- Tony would do what he wanted. Let it never be said he doesn't love power, especially when he has Loki under his thumb. Loki was a wildcard, doing what he wanted because he wanted to, and _only_ if he wanted to. But this time, he was under Tony's power, allowing Tony to do what he wanted because he wanted to be out of control, to let loose of everything that was weighing him down- if only for however long Tony teased and dominated him to the point of them both whiting out the world.

He let Loki go, only to grab his hands and hold them against the wall, Loki's legs gripping his hips tightly. He could feel the man's knees digging into his hip bones and placing bruising force against his waist. "Foreplay is the key to good sex, darling." He snarled, threading their fingers together and grinding Loki's knuckles back into the wall.

"Jesus Christ." He swore, eyes blown out and hazed over by lust and desire. "Remind me to never ask you for rough sex." He laughed, cutting off when Tony's mouth overlapped his, tongues immediately battling for dominance- a war Tony eventually won, running his tongue over the back of Loki's teeth, feeling how sharp and canine they were. The idea of the carnage they could bring his body was too much, and he thrust his hips against Loki's. The man hit flush with the wall, trying to arc against him but being caught hard between the wall and Tony's immovable body.

"Sir, Ms. Potts is calling." JARVIS's voice made Loki twitch, then growl.

"Tell her I'm fucking busy, Jarv." He growled against Loki's shoulder, kissing the sharp, thin skin at the end of his collarbone. He rutted against Loki's groin again, feeling the vibration of the slender man's body backing into the wall again.

Sweat was rolling down his forehead from the fucking molten heat of the moment and the effort of holding up Loki- who was extremely light (to the point of being unhealthy) but still extra weight that he wasn't used to supporting. He ground into him, rolling his hips relentlessly against Loki and drinking in the whimpers and moans and breathless gasps. Every sound was fueling him, pushing him into a frenzy he hadn't felt in fucking years.

"You have way too much clothing on." He snarled, letting go of his hands to wrap one hand under Loki's thigh and the other moving to push under his shirt and drag the material up Loki's slender abdomen. He dragged his nails up the other man's ribcage, carefully swerving around that scar.

They pulled away from the wall and Tony lowered Loki to the floor. "There's a perfectly good bed, right over there." Loki murmured, watching Tony push his shirt up to his chest and start to work over his stomach and ribs. "It's just, right _there,_ a fe-" He cut off with a moan when Tony ran his hand across the bulge in Loki's pants.

"What were you saying?" Tony looked up with a deviant grin.

"Um- shit, _fuck."_ He arced into the hand on his erection, eyes screwing shut and lips parting slightly to let out hard, panting breaths.

"That's what I thought." Tony growled, moving to bite against Loki's blade-for-a-hip-bone. The hand that wasn't working on Loki's now very apparent erection, pulled at the buttons on his jeans. He huffed when they wouldn't come undone, jerking the button off in irritation. Loki was holding his own hair, pushing back against his forehead like he couldn't deal with the sensations he was feeling. Blood trickled down his neck, making Tony very aware of how sharp his own teeth were. That would certainly leave a mark- maybe even a scar. Something told him that Loki would be perfectly fine with that.

He ran one hand up Loki's curvaceous back, pushing him up so that he could yank off his pants. Loki acquiesced willingly, his knees bending and making Tony's mind go a little blank of everything except the sheer amount of desire that was starting to make it's way directly to his dick.  
Let it never be said that Tony doesn't love sex.

Because he really, _really_ does.

And he honestly can't count the amount of times he's thought of this over the past decade.

Suffice to say, it's a hell of a lot better in reality.

He pulled Loki's pants down, working them off his ankles, and then yanking off bright red boxers- his, if he remembered correctly, about ten years ago. A flashback of the days immediately succeeding Loki's absence in his life, when he had found Loki's favorite sweater in his laundry, still smelling of everything that made up the wintry teenager he had fallen further in love with than he had even realized until that moment. Burying one's nose in one's lost love's sweater is a fairly good indicator that one has gotten his ass kicked straight into unflinching, unwavering love.

He licked up Loki's thigh, biting softly at the sensitive skin and feeling Loki twitch beneath his hands and mouth. One finger ran up Loki's length, making an extremely erotic moan fall from the man's bitten-red lips. He grinned, licking the head of his erection teasingly. "Holy…god." Loki moaned, his hips bucking up. Tony fastened his fingers around those sharp, perfect white hips. He licked a stripe up the man's erection, teasing him to the point of writhing and hard moans falling from his mouth.

One finger teased his entrance, gently pushing into him. Loki groaned, feeling the intrusion. He was so tight, Tony had the feeling it had been awhile since he'd done this. He wrapped his mouth around Loki, his tongue sucking against his length relentlessly as his finger delved deeper, feeling him simultaneously relax around his finger and tense like a rope under Tony's other hand.

"Oh, fuck me, Anthony." He gasped out, his voice shaking Tony to the bone and forcing an electric shock up his spine.

Sweet Lord, this was _Loki._

Loki.

Fucking Loki Laufeyson.

The love of his life.

Loki, god damn, Laufeyson.

He yanked his jeans down, feeling Loki pulling him and tugging his shirt over his head. And then…then, Loki turned over, getting on his knees and arching his back seductively. "I don't have-" He started, moving to the bedside table- after ripping his eyes away from Loki's perfect ass.

"It's called rough sex for a reason, Anthony." Loki looked over his shoulder and arched one, extremely seductive eyebrow. He wiggled his hips playfully. Tony's knees almost gave out.

He knelt behind him, running his fingers along Loki's spine and watching it bend beneath him- as if Loki wasn't flexible enough, it seemed his backbone was made of rubber. With one quick, sharp thrust, he pushed into Loki. Loki cried out, rocking forward with the force of Tony's hips hitting his ass. Tony felt his breath leave him and his vision blurred. Within seconds, and a few soothing runs up and down Loki's back, he felt the man relax around him. "Move, Anthony. _Now."_ Loki huffed breathlessly.

_Patience_ was obviously not a word in Loki Laufeyson's vocabulary.

Tony pulled back almost completely, only to snap his hips forward sharply, feeling Loki push back into him. He was sweating, biting against Loki's shoulder blade, holding onto his hips- purely for something to keep him grounded- gasping against his spine with each thrust. It was hard and rhythmic within a short moment, both of them finding their old tempo and heightening it in desperation to escape and fall apart and loose themselves in each other.

Tony's hand found it's way into Loki's hair, tugging back hard. Loki's back arched further, making Tony hit that sweet spot- Loki twitched and moaned hard, his arms quivering as they shakily held him up. Tony smirked, biting hard at the base of his spine and angling to hit that spot with every thrust. Loki fell, his elbows falling to the floor and back undulating to push his hips back into Tony's heavy, hard thrusts. They were both pouring sweat, Tony could taste it under his tongue, which ran up Loki's spine and lapped at the bites he had placed across his back. The salty taste of sweat and the bitter metallic of Loki's blood served to push Tony's mind into a place of white-hot noise, like an aphrodisiac.

Loki was quivering under his touch, rocking with each slick meeting of their bodies, moans and Tony's full name falling from his lips like a keening prayer. His knees slid, and Tony wrapped his hands around the slender man's sharp hips, his nails digging in harshly.

"An-Anthony." He whined, his voice tight and his body coiling tightly. "I-I can't-" He gasped, and Tony could see he was about to tip over the edge.

He bit down hard against the man's shoulder blade, feeling Loki suck in a sharp gasp. "Not yet." His voice was fucked-out, a deep growl that sounded like something you'd hear from a lion. He could feel blood slipping down his fingers, which were still coiled around Loki's hips- still pushing back against him feebly.

"I can't." Loki's jaw was clenched, trying to find some sort of control even in the overwhelming heat of the moment, so all-consuming that Tony was getting close too. But he wanted to drive into Loki until he absolutely couldn't hold on anymore- no matter how hard he tried.

He hoisted Loki up, watching as his hands slapped against the wall, nails digging into the dark burgundy paint and digging it off the barrier between them and the outside. He slid one hand between Loki's legs, wrapping around his leaking erection and pumping in time with his hips jerking up against Loki's ass. One pale hand hit the wall, and now it wasn't just Loki moaning and essentially filling the room with noises that would make a prostitute blush. Thank God, Tony lived alone.  
The entire neighborhood could probably hear them.

* * *

For Loki, it was over in a blindness of white, a hard contortion of his body that shook him through to the bone, and a yell so animalistic, he wasn't even sure it had come from him. The hard pressure of riding through it- both of them- was enough to bring tears to his eyes and make drool drip off his lips and onto the blurred carpet below. He would have rug burn on his knees, he would have mementos of this. He would probably have scars forever. And that's how he wanted it.

They both fell asleep a few minutes later, curled up on Tony's bedroom floor, exhausted and utterly spent. But Loki woke first, and the world came back down on him, crushing him past the crust of the earth and down into the seventh circle of hell. Everything that had happened, and everything that he had done wrong and Prussia. God fucking damn it.

He had done so much wrong in his life, made so many mistakes, blamed too many people for the things that had indeed been _his_ fault.

_He_ had goaded Odin into beating him.

_He_ had worn Thor down until he could see no other alternatives.

_He_ had pushed Tony into a frame of mind where he couldn't tell him the truth.

_He_ had walked away when he should have hugged and kissed and stayed close and begged to be let in.

_He_ had let Prussia slip from his grasp.

He was a curse and there was no way around that very apparent fact. So, he untangled himself from Anthony and went into the bathroom, flicking on the light and flinching at the reflection in the mirror. He looked like death warmed over. Blood still clung to his neck, slipping down and into the bowl of his collarbone. His hair was tangled by strong hands and desire and lust and frustration and the deep desire to have someone pound the self-loathing out of him. Around his eyes curled a blackness he had never seen before. His hands were cut up and raw, like his knees and there was a long gash against his neck that he could feel pulsing with pain and probably gravel. He wanted _more._ He wanted Thor to come and beat the shit out of him, he wanted someone to give him the hell he deserved. He wanted someone to hate him enough to hurt him so that his penance could be paid. He wanted to feel cleansed of the guilt and sorrow eating at him from the inside out.

But, alas, humans never comply when we most need them too. Stark would wake up feeling terrible for how he had done Loki, for the scars he had given him, the winding bite-marks that curled across his spine and shoulders and neck. He would hate the bruises on Loki's wrists and hips. But Loki loved them, because they were the perfect example of everything he deserved. Pain.

Prussia had lost her leg because of him. His family was already rended apart by so much tragedy and turmoil. He had done nothing right in his entire life and it was starting to corrode his soul.

He sighed, running a hand back through his hair, only to flinch at the tangles which snarled his fingers.

And it came back in a flash. That insidious desire you think you're rid of- fucking _finally-_ only for it to come back with a feverish passion, crawling inside your mind and sitting there, adamant. So, Loki knelt down and looked through Stark's well-stocked cabinets, quickly finding what he needed. A razor.

He broke it, looking down at the tiny, shining blades which looked so harmless and sweet. He had to choke back a laugh at the thought, looking down at them and picking one up, testing it's sharp bite against his fingertip. Blood dripped instantly from the little slice, caught by his tongue because the last thing he wanted was to stain Anthony's pretty bathroom floor.

The shower turned on under his hand, his clothes- what was left of them- slid off, his naked form stepping into the shower and feeling the harsh, burning hot water cutting on his skin. The blade was still in his hand, glittering under the spray, beads of water collecting on the small surface like diamonds. It was all so beautiful. How is it that pain is such a gorgeous thing, until the aftermath, when all is dark crimson and sobs and racking hatred?

He slowly drew the blade across his arm- and god damn it, it felt like coming home. He let out an unwittingly restrained huff of oxygen, the pain slicing through his entire body and dragging goosebumps across his mottled flesh. The blood washed off, only to be replaced by more as he went to work on his own skin. Line after line after line.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Endorphins rushed his brain, making the next cuts more languid, deeper.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

Eight.

He leaned back against the wall, the water slicing through his front, beating down on his chest.

Nine.

Ten.

Eleven.

Twelve.

Blood pooled over the cuts, now protected from the water.

Thirteen.

Fourteen.

Fifteen.

Sixteen.

The lines blurred, tears forming in his eyes.

Seventeen.

Eighteen.

Nineteen.

Twenty.

He stopped, the blade dropping from his hand and falling into the water below, sucked down the drain.  
Loki was shaking uncontrollably, slipping down against the tiled wall and sobbing quietly. He hadn't done this in years. Nine years he had been clean, against all hope, through all the pain and heart-rending events of his life over the past several years. He had never touched a blade, keeping the knives in his kitchen dulled and refusing the pretty burn of his cigarettes. He had been strong- or was it weak? Loki wasn't sure anymore- and he had resisted the seductive lure of the sharpest instruments and the most powerful silver blades.

But this was too much, there was just too much aching within him. He had ruined Prussia's life, and she was just so fucking young. He had taken from her the abilities she might have had when she grew up. He had stolen from her a carefree youth, taken away wild running and screaming and crashing through playgrounds with her friends. He had taken away her ability to jump on a trampoline, or sprint the fastest mile in her school, taken away her ability to leap over streams and splash in puddles.

Everything would be harder for the little girl he so adored, loved like his own, and it was all his fault.

And the knowledge was tearing him apart.

* * *

A/N:** Happy endings? What are those?**

**This was a trigger-fest, so I hope you guys read the warnings and abode by them. They're there for a reason. Having a past in things like what I write about, it's what I need to get out of my system. I write it for me, because I struggle with it. If anyone else is, please, message me. Don't hurt yourself. You truly don't deserve it- just like Loki doesn't. And if you need someone to talk to, I'm here. PM me. I care about all of you, even if I don't know you personally. Everyone needs someone to talk to xoxox.**

**Please review. This was a foray into something new for me, and feedback would be massively appreciated :)**

**~xoxox, Rayn**


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